


The Want of You

by MKK



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Affection, Awkward Sexual Situations, Developing Relationship, Forced Bonding, Illnesses, M/M, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-22 16:04:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 30,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2513753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MKK/pseuds/MKK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Julian Bashir is not quite sure yet about his feelings toward his enigmatic new friend Elim Garak.  So when they both show symptoms of a mysterious illness, it seems they'll now have more time apart to ponder the future of the relationship.  Their symptoms worsen, however, and to their shock, they discover there's only one way to effectively and inexplicably ease the pain: getting physically closer and closer - and closer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to write a story like this for a long time - I always thought exploring the possibilities of this admittedly silly concept would be a lot of fun to do. (Maybe not always for our heroes, though... ;-) Don't be discouraged by the slow pace of the growing relationship and the action - that's the whole point of the plot. Trust me, as time goes on they'll find that - no, I'll leave that to the story to tell!

The want of you is like no other thing;  
It smites my soul with sudden sickening;  
It binds my being with a wreath of rue -  
This want of you.

It flashes on me with the waking sun;  
It creeps upon me when the day is done;  
It hammers at my heart the long night through -  
This want of you.

It sighs within me with the misting skies;  
Oh, all the day within my heart it cries,  
Old as your absence, yet each moment new -  
This want of you.

Mad with demand and aching with despair,  
It leaps within my heart and you are - where?  
God has forgotten, or he never knew -  
This want of you.

"The Want of You," Ivan Leonard Wright, c. 1920

 

Looking back on it, Doctor Julian Bashir realized he never suspected a thing, the morning he awoke with a slight tickle in the back of his throat. Just the tiniest bit of a tickle, the sort of thing one might get at the very beginning of a cold, barely even noticeable. Not even a sore throat, really, just a... a tickle.

He sat alone in the replimat enjoying a cup of tea and assiduously catching up on the medical journals he had let accumulate on his padd for the past week or so; one never knew when some new bit of information would jump out at him and become useful in some totally unexpected, unforeseen way. One had to keep up, in other words. He could have done this reading in his quarters or in his little office in the infirmary, but he liked the quiet bustle of the replimat and the nearby promenade - not too loud, not too intrusive, but enough activity around him to keep him company and, in an odd way, keep him focused.

So he was not totally pleased when his new acquaintance, the station's resident tailor and suspected Cardassian spy Elim Garak, saw him and, with a courteous "May I join you, doctor?" slid into the seat across from him. Oh, he'd never let on that the man had, in fact, interrupted him, but he had spent several hours the day previous to this one in his company and was welcoming the time alone. Conversing with Garak was always an adventure, a sort of a game, and he was not really in a game-playing mood right then. But he politely lowered the padd and raised his eyes to meet Garak's.

"How are you, Garak?"

"Fine, doctor - well, except for the feeling that I'm coming down with a cold. I've had a scratchy throat since very early this morning -"

"So have I!"

"But, honestly, right now, I'm feeling better."

"Me too - I think maybe it's the tea. Would you like some?"

"No thank you - I simply stopped by to thank you for letting me tag along yesterday. As you know, I once worked as a gardener -"

"On Romulus - yes, I know." Garak had regaled the group at length on that point yesterday.

"- And so examining new flora and fauna is one of my passions. Amazing, what that little ship was carrying, wasn't it?"

"Yes. Amazing."

"I'm not disturbing you, am I?"

"Oh no, Garak - I'm sorry. I was just catching up on my reading."

"Novels?"

"Medical journals."

Garak made a sympathetic sigh. "Doctor, you really should learn to expand your horizons a little, spend some time immersed in other worlds, other peoples, other cultures, other -"

"Garak, just what exactly do you think I do all day here on the station?" Garak had no answer to that. "You wouldn't believe the exobiology research I'm reading about right now. In fact, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to finish one or two more papers before I have to return to work." He smiled to take the edge off his rather brusque request.

"Of course." Garak smiled in return, rose, and bowed farewell; Bashir watched him go and coughed slightly as the tickle in his throat suddenly returned. Oh well, it was obviously nothing too serious - he sipped his still-warm tea and settled back for another few minutes of reading.

 

Six hours later, and the tickle had turned into more of a cough, with some soreness far in the back of the throat too, but still nothing to be concerned about. Bashir, invited to attend a Vulcan concert, sat next to Jadzia Dax and Major Kira and tried to focus on the music, but his persistent cough was becoming more and more difficult to stifle. It was also becoming more difficult to stifle his persistent thoughts of Elim Garak - the reasons for his frequent daydreaming speculations about just what the Cardassian must be doing at that moment and where he might next turn up were a mystery to him. However, he couldn't deny that he was more than a little pleased when the Cardassian himself suddenly entered the room, at a break in the performance, and took an empty seat right behind Bashir.

"I thought I might find you here," he whispered, leaning forward, then clearing his throat.

"I didn't think this sort of event was your - style," Bashir whispered back.

"It normally wouldn't be, but I've been thinking of - that is, I do believe I'm coming down with something and wondered if you could give me some help for it when you're finished here."

"It's probably just the same thing that I've got." He found, however, that the "cold" had inexplicably left him for the moment - to his great relief, he had not the slightest inclination to cough any more. The Vulcan harpist could play undisturbed now. "But you came all the way here just to ask me that?"

"Yes - well, and I've been thinking of -" He lapsed into silence. "Actually, doctor, I may not need your help after all - I'm feeling better." Bashir heard him take a deep breath. "Much better, in fact!"

"Good - because the music's about to resume." The two settled back into their chairs and listened.

Kira and Dax were not especially pleased that Bashir invited Garak to join them for drinks afterward, but he was in good spirits, pleased he had managed to shake off whatever was bothering him, and found himself greatly enjoying the Cardassian's company and attention - it seemed much too abrupt to say good-bye to him after the concert and send him on his way. So the four of them sat together in Quark's bar, reasonably comfortable with each other and with the flow of conversation - after all, Garak was nothing if not a sublime conversationalist. After an hour or so, they finished their drinks and rose to leave.

"Lunch tomorrow, doctor?" Garak asked him - it had been several days since they had last met for a meal together.

"Ah - sure, sure, I think that'll work." Bashir didn't want to appear too eager, but the truth was, he had been hoping all evening that Garak would bring it up, and was inordinately pleased that he had. "See you tomorrow around 1200, okay?"

"Okay," Garak smiled, savoring the casual human expression.

But at 1200, when Bashir joined him at the table, both men were in far less pleasant moods. Bashir's throat had burned all night, after all, and Garak's eyes were red as he shivered in his heavy tunic. "Ah, doctor!" he greeted him. "I was almost tempted to cancel - I'm afraid whatever it is I'm coming down with is getting a little worse." He visibly shivered again.

"For me, too," Bashir nodded sympathetically. "I'm starting to wonder if we both picked up something together here in the replimat, maybe..." He sat and regarded his bowl of soup happily. "On the other hand, now that I'm out and about, I'm already feeling a little better. Does some good to stretch the muscles a little bit, move around some. Clears the sinuses."

"I suppose so - and I don't feel quite as chilled any more, you're right." Garak attacked his own soup with relish. "I suppose this can't be anything too terrible, if it comes and goes like this." They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes. "Doctor," Garak began hesitantly, "I've been meaning to ask you if... if you're interested in perhaps having a drink with me again tonight. I enjoyed your company, last night, and..."

"I - I really don't think I'm free tonight, Garak," Bashir lied, uncomfortable. This was rather unexpected and he wasn't quite sure yet if he wanted the friendship to go further - lunch was one thing, and he had really been looking forward to it, but lunch was something that many, many people on the relatively small station frequently shared. And so far, the only times they had spent together outside of lunch were the visit to the ship from the Gamma quadrant and then the impromptu drink with the women the previous evening - perhaps that had been a mistake. He was becoming more and more fascinated with the Cardassian and wasn't completely sure why that was so, but taking him up on his offer of an evening out together would possibly send signals he didn't wish to send.

Not yet, anyway. Or ever? Garak was, after all, not only a Cardassian, attractive and mysterious and more than a little intimidating, but also, most importantly, well... a male. Bashir had never, in all his life, considered a genuine romantic relationship with a male. Yet it appeared that Garak was trying to steer him in that direction - unless he was mistaken and Garak was simply lonely, looking for companionship just as he had already professed... Bashir, despite the fact that his physical symptoms had suddenly and inexplicably improved, began to scowl.

Garak nodded pleasantly. "Of course. Some other time, then." The two silently continued their meals. Bashir finally spoke.

"You know, Garak, it's not -"

"Doctor, it's perfectly fine - I understand." He smiled cheerfully. "Well! The soup has worked wonders - I'm ready to go and attack those orders again!" He smiled once more; Bashir thought to himself how appealing, how actually dazzling was that smile. He couldn't tell if there was any regret mixed in but hoped not. The two said good-bye and Garak departed, his walk confident and assured. Bashir watched his retreating back, and as he watched, he felt his throat begin to tighten up again with soreness. He coughed and closed his eyes. So much for the medicinal qualities of the soup.

Later that day, the sore throat and cough had finally turned into a full-blown cold. Oh well – this kind of thing occasionally happened and there was nothing to do but put up with it and get through it. His colds never lasted too long anyway, and he felt no need to alter his daily routines. He was just finishing up some recordkeeping in his office when Chief O'Brien signaled him to ask if he'd be interested in a game of darts later - Bashir agreed to a short one, pleading tiredness but also acknowledging to himself that a little physical activity did seem to be keeping this particular cold at bay. He told O'Brien so as they relaxed over drinks at Quark's afterward.

"You didn't really have to say yes, doctor," O'Brien chided him. "My feelings wouldn't have been hurt. You sound terrible."

"No, no, I wanted to get out and do something," Bashir answered, wiping his watery eyes with his napkin after another bout of sneezing. "Lying around all day won't help me breathe - this is really nothing to worry about."

"Well, some good strong ale will help too - helps anything." O’Brien took another drink; Bashir did too.

"Chief - I think you're right!"

"What?"

"I feel almost halfway better already -" he took another drink, "and now even better than THAT!" Smiling, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "What's in this?"

"Health and vitality, son." O'Brien raised his glass. "Cheers."

"Cheers." They clinked glasses, never noticing that Garak had entered the bar one level directly below them, sat down, took a sip of kanaar, and silently remarked to himself that the drink seemed to be just what the doctor ordered - he was already feeling much better. Much, much better, in fact.


	2. Chapter 2

Half an hour later, Bashir descended the stairs with O'Brien and both he and Garak saw each other - Garak raised his glass in greeting. Bashir, momentarily nonplussed, recalled that he had already told him he'd be busy that evening so he really had nothing to feel awkward about. Still, when Garak beckoned the two of them over, he obediently and guiltily led the way, dragging a somewhat reluctant O'Brien behind him.

"Gentlemen! Have a drink with me." The Cardassian was very slightly but very obviously intoxicated.

"We've got to be going -" 

Bashir took firm hold of O'Brien's sleeve. "We'd love to." The two sat down next to Garak at the bar, Bashir closest to him. 

"I've been feeling rather low all day and thought a glass of kanaar would help - and you wouldn't believe how much it HAS. So I'm having another." And another, and another, Bashir surmised... "Join me in one?"

"No, I don't think -"

"Yes, sure!" Bashir answered happily again for the two of them, his guilt assuaged, keeping his hold on O'Brien's sleeve. "The chief and I were just leaving but we can certainly spare a couple of minutes." He watched as the bartender filled two more glasses. "You said you were feeling rather - low? In what way?"

"Is this the doctor talking?"

"Yes, I suppose so." He took a drink - kanaar was wonderfully sweet and packed quite a kick at the end - he could almost feel all the nerves in his body responding to it. What a delightful sense of invigoration - he silently vowed to give this a try a little more often. Why, in all this time, had Garak never told him just how powerfully energizing that beverage could be... He took another gulp.

"I've been experiencing muscle cramps off and on and fighting off a headache for a good part of the afternoon - but it's gone! Completely!" Garak smiled and leaned closer to Bashir, who pulled away just a little and leaned in turn against a scowling Miles O'Brien - the kanaar did not seem to be quite to HIS liking. "And the really odd thing is that I could almost feel myself getting better as soon as I walked in here. I wonder - is it the atmosphere of this place?" He smiled and tried to put his hand companionably on Bashir's shoulder, causing the doctor to almost topple over against O'Brien.

"I think it's just being out and about, walking around, getting away from your room." He stood up, smoothly dislodging Garak's hand. "I mean, it's worked for me too - I was so tired when I walked in here and now I'm wide awake and ready to -" Oh no, that could sound like an invitation for further conversation of some sort. "And ready to go back to my room and get some sleep!" Garak regarded him with confusion; even O'Brien rolled his eyes.

"Yes," Garak slowly answered, looking slightly puzzled, "I too feel most like sleeping when I'm - wide awake. Are you sure you can't stay for another drink with me?"

"No, no, I think it's time I get the chief home." He pulled O'Brien off the chair. "It was very nice to run into you - hope to see you again soon."

"Lunch tomorrow, doctor?" Garak called after him, but Bashir pretended he didn't hear him as he steered O'Brien out the door. Once in the corridor, the chief confronted him.

"What the hell was that all about?"

"What do you mean?" Bashir felt his eyes begin to water and a sneeze start threatening.

"All that, 'Sure, I'll have drink with you, Garak! Get the hell away from me, Garak!' stuff."

"You mean I was that obvious?" O'Brien only grunted. "The truth is, he fascinates me but I suppose I'm also a little afraid of him. You have to admit the man is a complete mystery. I'm... I'm not exactly sure what he wants from me, to be honest." At that, O'Brien snorted with laughter, causing Bashir to redden and then, finally, sneeze.

"I couldn't begin to guess, doctor. I couldn't even begin to guess. Just do me a favor - if you're really not sure what YOU want from him, then don't drag me along to any more kanaar parties with him."

"Kanaar parties?" Bashir giggled - he was still pleasantly warm and cheerful from the drinks, despite the fact that his sore throat was returning as well. "That's a good way of putting it. A kanaar party!" O'Brien grinned indulgently; Bashir ambled along the corridor to his room, coughing again but still smiling.

He wasn't smiling the next morning, however - the headache that woke him was threatening to split his head open. He couldn't remember the last time he had suffered from a hangover that severe. He tried to recall just exactly what he had imbibed - a red ale or two (probably two,) and a glass of kanaar. Not really so much to be causing a reaction like this - was it the fact that he had downed the kanaar so rapidly in his nervousness, or was it the interaction of the two beverages... It still didn't make much sense. He'd have to contact O'Brien and see if he, too, was suffering that morning.

He was not. "No, doctor, I'm not in my quarters - I'm in docking bay four working on the gear mechanism. I feel fine. Maybe it's just because of that cold you've been fighting off."

"I suppose so." Bashir flopped back down onto the mattress and put his hand to his eyes. If only the pounding would stop. He was supposed to be at the infirmary in less than thirty minutes - he had two physical exams scheduled, a subspace conference call, and a supervisory session to observe Nurse Jabara with a Nausiccan patient... Oh well. He sighed, climbed slowly out of bed, and staggered to the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face. It didn't help, but at least it woke him up a little. He then pulled his uniform on and limped tiredly down the corridor to the infirmary.

"Doctor Bashir! You look terrible!" the nurse greeted him.

"Good morning."

"Oh, I'm sorry - good morning." She paused. "You really don't look well, though."

"I know. I was out last night. Must have overindulged."

"That's not like you."

"I know - and I really didn't think I did, but - well, I do feel pretty rotten." He stifled a cough. "I'm sorry I'm late. Has our first patient arrived yet?" He headed toward the examination room.

"No, not yet - shall I send him in when he does?"

"Yes, please." Bashir entered the small room, closed the door, and then sat down, burying his face in his hands and leaning his head on the computer console. This was going to be a very, very long day; he closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. Just then, the door slid open, but instead of the Bajoran technician Bashir had been expecting, Elim Garak himself entered, pale and distraught.

"I was told you were here. Doctor, I didn't want to bother you but I'm afraid I really need your help - I couldn't even sleep last night, my whole body ached and it felt as if - spiders - were crawling all over me." He shuddered.

"Not pink elephants, Garak?" Bashir sighed.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Never mind - just an old Earth reference. I believe that you and I, my friend, partook a little too much last night of the treat of genuine alcohol. Combine that with the colds we both seem to be suffering from, and you've got the answer."

"You believe that's all it is? Nothing more serious?"

"Of course not. I mean, look, I'm already feeling better."

"Now that you mention it, doctor - so am I." 

Bashir thought for a moment. "This is actually quite remarkable - I could barely hold my head up, before you came in, and now I feel completely rested!" He thought for another second. "And my headache's gone!"

"Yes, it's extraordinary - I suppose the effects wore off as soon as we both gave ourselves some time to fully wake up." Garak then smiled hesitantly. "Oh, and doctor... I also wanted to know if... if you're free for lunch today."

Bashir froze. He wanted very much to accept, to say yes - he was almost relieved that Garak had pursued the matter and asked him after all. At the same time, though, he was starting to worry that the Cardassian was indeed pursuing him a little TOO ardently and enthusiastically and should possibly be persuaded to tone down his efforts... But on the other hand, Bashir found he was enjoying the lunches and the resulting conversations more than he had expected to and didn't want to discourage Garak from ever asking again. So he accepted. The two arranged to meet at the replimat in four hours.

Two hours later, however, Garak was back. Bashir, excusing himself from the subspace conference because of a coughing fit, was in the outer area of the infirmary, drinking yet another cup of hot tea and cradling his forehead in his hand. 

"Doctor - I'm afraid I have to cancel lunch."

"So do I, Garak," Bashir weakly agreed, coughing again.

"I'm going back to my quarters for the rest of the day - I ache all over. I know I was already given some pain medication, but -" He paused.

"But?" Bashir looked up at him.

"But I don't think I need to ask for anything stronger after all. Whatever is wrong with me seems to be - taking another little break. I feel fine now." He stood next to Bashir, blinking in confusion. "Totally fine."

"Me too," Bashir softly replied, puzzled. "Me too." His head and throat were completely clear. 

"Should we perhaps go for an early lunch anyway, to take advantage of this temporary recovery? Are you by any chance free now?" 

Bashir nodded, and the two left the infirmary and strolled companionably toward the replimat, marveling at the mutual cessation of their symptoms. At one point, however, Garak reached out to grasp the doctor's forearm while making a point, but Bashir inched slightly away and the moment was over. They had nearly reached their destination when Dax called over to Bashir from a stairway. "You go ahead and get us a table, Garak - I'll be right there," Bashir told him. The Cardassian bowed in acknowledgement and walked off.

"What can I do for you?" Bashir approached Dax, coughing into his sleeve.

"Do you still have that cold?" Bashir nodded. "Why don't you take something for it?"

"I have been, but it comes and goes and nothing really seems to help." Dax regarded him with concern. "Anyway, what do you need me for?"

"It's not that I need YOU, it's that I was wondering if YOU need ME."

"What do you mean?" He coughed again, then sneezed. Dax backed away slightly.

"I heard from the chief that Garak's been rather persistent lately." Bashir grimaced at the intrusion and the implication. "And when I saw you here together, I thought maybe you needed an excuse to get away later."

"Jadzia, he's not taking me prisoner, you know!"

"I know - it's just that you're always so polite and we were thinking you're having trouble getting him to back off." 

"I don't need him to 'back off.' I like him. I think he's just rather - lonely."

"Is that all? Just lonely?"

"Why? What else are you implying?" Bashir's eyes began to water as he fought to keep from coughing. Dax regarded him sympathetically.

"Julian - do I need to tell you about men?"

That was enough. "Jadzia," Bashir wheezed, "this is really quite embarrassing. I don't like the thought of my friendships being discussed as some kind of sordid station gossip." She looked suitably chastened. "If I choose to share my lunch hours with a pleasant, intelligent, and possibly very isolated man who enjoys my company, that's my own business." With a final, resoundingly wet sneeze, he left her and headed back to the replimat. The closer he got to the doorway, the better he felt. Asserting himself with Dax must have done him some good, he mused, lifted his spirits and put a confident new spring in his step. Now if only he could indeed figure out some way to get Garak to back off without her help.

 

After lunch, he went back to work and Garak went back to his shop. However, less than two hours later, he staggered to his room and collapsed onto the bed, weak, coughing, and now even slightly nauseated. Before he left the infirmary, he had scanned himself and found no virus, no infection that would cause the symptoms he was experiencing. That made it no easier to endure them, however. He fell into a fitful sleep, dreaming of Garak - the dreams were vague, unsettled; in one of them, he was lying next to the Cardassian in some sort of grassy meadow; in the next, he was floating down a river with Garak floating next to him and laughing. Strange - he was sure that Cardassians would dislike the water. 

When he awoke, his sinuses were so swollen that he could barely breathe. Since he was already dressed, although rumpled, he groaned and headed back to the infirmary to secure the proper medication. The nurse greeted him and told him that Garak had just been there and left.

"What was he here for?"

"Aches and pains. He said that all his joints hurt and his back was locking up. Poor man."

"I thought he was getting over that." Bashir rummaged around in the cabinet and pulled out the hypospray he needed, then spotted another one lying on the counter. "What's this?"

"Oh!" Jabara exclaimed, surprised. "I thought he had taken that with him - that was for Garak. I can call him - or, wait, here he is." Garak slowly limped back into the room from the corridor. 

"I'm sorry - I had forgotten - oh, hello, doctor." He leaned against a chair. "I'm afraid I took a major turn for the worse after our lunch today - I could barely get through the next hour in my shop." He imperceptibly began to straighten and stand taller. "I hurt all over - but you know, walking around a little must have loosened up the muscles, because I feel almost one hundred percent better now!" He smiled happily.

Bashir smiled too. "It must have helped us both - my head is clear and I'm already hungry again. I had been afraid something didn't agree with me at first, but it was a false alarm." Garak regarded him with interest.

"You said you're hungry again? Would you perhaps be interested in - an early dinner?"

Bashir hesitated. Two meals in one day - not to mention the fact that he had left work sick - it would look very odd for him to be accepting dinner invitations from Garak in front of the nurse he had left alone all afternoon. In addition, there were the signals sent by accepting two invitations from him so close together - no. Not good. "No, I'm sorry, Garak - not today. I think I had better just go back to my room and rest." Garak nodded, took the hypospray, and left. 

Bashir found his sudden burst of energy and clarity rapidly dissipating, so he returned to his room and, shivering and coughing, ate a solitary dinner in front of the computer monitor. Unfortunately, eating anything at all, he uncomfortably found out later, had been a mistake. He finally curled up on his bed, under the blanket, and slept.


	3. Chapter 3

And slept, and slept. Almost twelve hours later, he awoke, his head pounding, his eyes watering, his whole body shivering. "This is RIDICULOUS," he wheezed out loud. He groggily slapped the comm unit next to the bed.

"Bashir to infirmary."

"Go ahead, doctor."

"Am I late again, for - anything?" He really had no idea of what his shift might have been that day or whether he was even expected to report in, and was too disoriented to concentrate. Easier just to ask.

"Doctor? Is everything all right?"

"I don't know... I don't think so. I think I've got a fever now on top of everything else. Can you - no, never mind, I'll stop by and pick something up for it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes - I want to check again to see if I can figure out what this is. Seems to have turned into a flu, or something." Well, at least he wasn't coughing quite as much - the chills felt worse, though, and was the nausea back? He couldn't tell. He slowly and painstakingly changed into a fresh uniform - the thought of getting into a shower, even a hot shower, was faintly horrifying. He'd try a sonic one later. The walk to the infirmary wasn't long but seemed to take forever, as he shuffled along the corridor, grateful that he didn't come upon anyone who wanted to talk and, thus, delay him. 

The nurse greeted him, sat him down immediately and held the mediscanner near him. 

"You're right - you do have a slight fever. Your temperature is 38 C. One degree. Not terrible, but -"

"But very odd, when this shows that absolutely nothing is wrong with me." He had taken the scanner from her hand and was studying the results. 

"You've probably just been overdoing it lately - you could be coming down with something that hasn't registered on the scans yet."

"I suppose so." He shivered and wrapped his arms around his chest. "I've already slept for what feels like an entire day, but I don't think I could do anything else right now but sleep some more."

"So then go get more rest, doctor," Jabara kindly agreed. "We can manage here. You haven't given yourself even one day off to just stay home."

"All right, I suppose I will." A thought then occurred to him. "Um - have you heard anything more from Garak? Has he been back?"

"No, at least not while I was on duty." She checked the log. "Oh, yes, sorry, he was here a few hours ago. Said his vision was blurry. Nothing appeared to be wrong, though - my colleague just assumed fatigue and gave him something to help him sleep. He's been complaining of pain but nothing showed up."

"Maybe I'll stop by anyway and check on him." He slowly rose to his feet.

"Doctor! You need to go back to your quarters and sleep! You're really not in any condition now to be paying house calls."

"I'm just going to say hello and see how he's doing, that's all. If anything's really the matter I'll contact you or send him back here." He gave her a weak smile. 

"You could be contagious -"

"The scanner says I'm not. I just need to feel as if I'm doing something. I'll let you know if anything's wrong," he repeated, and let himself out before Jabara could bring up any more, very logical, objections. 

The truth was, he had begun feeling an almost overpowering wish to see Garak again and wasn't even quite sure why - oh, he missed his company and the conversations the past few days, but it was more than that. It was almost as if he had a compulsion to see him now, before he could feel free to surrender himself to another round of sleep - he had to reassure himself of Garak's presence, in a way. Was he afraid of losing him, now that Garak was sick? Was that the fear, buried somewhere within him? He had never known the Cardassian to be sick before, now that he thought of it - he had even begun assuming that Cardassians didn't GET sick, at least not in the relatively frequent and minor way that humans and Bajorans did. Or was there a reason even deeper than that one?

Before he could ponder it too long, he found himself nearing Garak's room in the habitat ring. As he walked, he could almost feel his strength returning and his head clearing - it was truly remarkable, what a little exercise could do for a person when nothing else seemed to be effective. He reached Garak's door and signaled. 

He heard a faint, "Come in, doctor," from behind the door, which slid open to reveal Garak lying in his bed, blankets almost obscuring him from view. 

Bashir entered and Garak sat up, the blankets falling away around him. "Garak, I'm here to -"

"Welcome, doctor! Excuse my not getting up to let you in but I've been so tired." He swung his legs over the side of the bed.

"I know - I heard you were having a little trouble with your vision too. How do you feel now?"

"Fine -" Garak paused, then slowly repeated, "Fine, doctor. It's as if the little nap I took has totally rejuvenated me. I actually didn't realize just how much better I felt until you arrived." He stood and Bashir tried hard not to stare - Garak in his soft gray and rather clingy pajamas looked, well, huggable. Huggable? Bashir blinked.

"That's wonderful to hear. I feel the same way - I've been fighting this cold for days but whenever I get out and move around, I feel better. Must have been the walk."

"But I didn't walk, doctor - I just woke up a few minutes ago. Actually, a very few minutes ago - I think I was awake only a minute or so before you got here. And yet now I'm - I'm fine. I think."

"Well, I guess you just needed the rest." Bashir smiled. The two men stood awkwardly facing each other, neither one speaking for a while. "So... I guess I'll be going. I was heading back to my quarters and to bed -" Oh God, that sounded out of place, like some weird invitation - or was he over-thinking things again? "- but I thought I'd stop by to check on you first."

"Thank you," Garak bowed. "I'm very grateful you did. Would you - would you like anything? Some tea, perhaps?"

"No, thank - no, I mean yes. Yes I would." Garak smiled - again that dazzling smile - and Bashir decided to stop thinking for a few minutes and just enjoy a simple cup of tea with his friend. 

"I'm sorry about the state of my room," Garak apologized as he retrieved two steaming cups of redleaf tea from the replicator. The only thing messy in his meticulously ordered room was the bed, but Bashir graciously accepted his apology as he looked back toward that bed. He too liked to sleep warm, despite his youth and fast metabolism, so he approved of the soft pillows and the multiple blankets... What would it be like to actually be lying down in that bed - would Garak's faint but rather pleasant scent be stronger there? Would it seem too, well, 'alien,' to be there? Would the answer change if Garak was, in fact, in there with him... He brought himself back to reality with a start - Garak was speaking to him.

"And again I must apologize - I forgot to ask you if you cared to try redleaf tea or if -"

"No, this is fine. I mean yes, this is fine," Bashir stammered as Garak smiled again. Would the man ever stop doing that - he was supposed to be sick. On the other hand, if he felt the way Bashir felt right then, he instead would be the picture of health. Strange. Very, very strange. The two sat across from one another at a small table near the window. Bashir tried to imagine Garak sitting by himself at that window, eating a meal or drinking tea and looking out at the stars, alone - the thought was rather melancholy and he felt a pang in his heart. But when the Cardassian reached across the table to retrieve a spoon, his hand briefly brushing against Bashir's hand, the doctor jumped halfway out of his chair.

"I'm sorry - I didn't mean to startle you."

"No, no, that's fine - I should really be going anyway." He stood.

"So soon? You haven't finished your tea. Could I get you another kind, perhaps?"

"No, that's all right - I need to get back. I can never tell when this flu is going to return, so I'd better go before I start sneezing at you. Thank you for the tea." He smiled politely as Garak walked him to the door. "Perhaps we can have lunch again in a day or two, now that we're both starting to feel a little better."

"I would love that." Bashir blinked, uneasy. 'I would love that,' hmm? 'Love' that? That sounded a little... well... He had better make it two days, at least, if not more. This was all beginning to make him uncomfortable again. And yet he had been so eager to find Garak and make sure all was well with him...

And how fortunate he had decided to do that right away, he mused, as his flu was most definitely returning - he could almost feel his temperature begin to creep up and the chills overtake him as he walked back to his room, then quickly stripped out of his uniform and climbed into bed. He had the vague thought, as he drifted off to an unsettled sleep, that Garak's bed would have been so much warmer and more comfortable... He shivered again.

 

Two days later, he was shivering violently as he sat at the desk in his room, scrolling disconsolately through entry after entry in the Starfleet medical database, trying to pinpoint exactly what was wrong with him. Two days, and his symptoms were no better - two days, and he was becoming less and less able to keep anything down but tea and water - two days, and his fever was increasing a degree or so each day and no medication would stop it. 

He was, despite himself, becoming a little frightened - granted, he wasn't incapacitated, his mind was relatively clear and his throat had stopped burning, but the fact that his tricorder told him nothing was physically causing the elevation in body temperature... Well, it made no sense, and made the illness very difficult to treat. Out of curiosity, he tried signaling Garak's quarters once or twice but the Cardassian was either not in his room or was sleeping - there was no response. He assumed, though, that Garak's Cardassian stamina had shaken off whatever was bothering him and that he was back at work. 

He knew he shouldn't leave his room but was too restless to stay trapped inside any longer - it had, after all, been two full days and he wanted to avail himself of the superior computers in the infirmary. So he took off his robe and pajamas and pulled on a heavy sweater and thick sweatpants, hoping no one would notice his uncharacteristically ultra-casual attire. Well, after all, he was off duty. The halls shouldn't be too busy at that hour, he hoped, and it wasn't as if he was wearing his pajamas... He then crept, shivering, to the infirmary. The night nurse was on duty and looked up at his entrance, very surprised to see him. He sent her off on a break and to get something to eat - she promised to be back within half an hour, and even faster than that when she saw how weak he appeared as he sat down on the edge of a biobed. 

His temperature, he was displeased to note, had now reached 39.9 C. Almost three degrees C too high - no wonder he was shivering so badly. The biobed sensor displays also showed elevated blood pressure, increased heart rate, decreased white blood cell count - all symptoms of flu or something more serious; scanning for an actual cause, though, again showed nothing. Absolutely nothing. He slammed his hand down on the edge of the bed in frustration. 

No infection, no virus, no tissue damage, no other injury anywhere on his body. This was ridiculous. He fought for concentration as he continued to shiver. What was he missing? What could he possibly have overlooked? Just how long had he actually been sick, and when precisely had it all started... Suddenly the sensor on the bed gave a faint beep and he looked up to see the body temperature indicator moving gradually back to normal along with the other measures - very strange. The number, in fact, was decreasing even more rapidly as he watched - to 39.5, 39, 38.3, 37.4... Just then, the door slid open and Garak entered.

"Oh! Doctor! What a relief! I was hoping I'd find you here. I'm afraid I've been fighting whatever this is for days now and I'm only getting worse by the day." He didn't sound very ill, however - Bashir interrupted him, a little dazed.

"I just had the strangest experience, Garak." The Cardassian waited, listening patiently. "My flu - if that's what it is - has been getting worse and worse too, so I stopped by here to check some more things and - and now it's - gone."

"Gone? Just like that?"

"Just like that. My temperature is normal, my blood counts are perfect, my -"

Garak interrupted him then. "Doctor, I've been in so much pain I can barely sleep - and then when I DO sleep, I can hardly wake up, I'm so tired. But now -"

"Now?"

"I feel fine. Perfectly fine. No pain at all. No fatigue." The two men looked at each other silently.

"Garak," Bashir softly asked him, "how did you feel when you left your quarters just now?"

"Terrible. Absolutely terrible."

"How do you feel now?"

"As I said - perfectly normal." 

Bashir sank down against the biobed. "Garak, would you please go back out into the hallway?"

"Doctor?"

"Please. Just a hunch." Garak moved to the door, which slid open and then closed behind him - Bashir called out a command for the door to remain open. "Now, would you please walk about twenty or thirty meters away."

"What for?"

"Just a hunch. Humor me. Walk slowly." Garak did so, and as he walked, Bashir watched the indicators on the biobed change as his body rapidly and very definitely felt the effects too - his body temperature went from 37 to 37.5, 38, 38.7... "Garak!"

"Yes?" Garak called to him, his voice more weak now, from some distance down the hall.

"Come back. Walk as fast as you can." He heard Garak's footsteps, watched the indicator, and felt the effects of the drop in temperature instantly throughout his body - 39, 38.2, 37.1 C...

"Oh my God." 

Garak gaped at him - he had felt something too. 

"Garak..." They stared at each other in shock. "Oh my God."


	4. Chapter 4

"Doctor, what are you saying?" Garak asked, his voice low and tense. "Are you implying that -"

"I'm not 'implying' anything, Garak - I'm TELLING you that when you walked toward me, our symptoms improved. At least mine did, and I believe yours did too." Garak nodded imperceptibly. "When you walked away from me, I got sicker again and my symptoms worsened. Simple as that."

"Simple?"

"All right, not simple at all. But, for whatever reason, true." The two stood in silence for a moment. Finally Garak spoke.

"It's the scanner - the measuring instruments. They're inaccurate - somehow they've gotten out of adjustment, and -"

"That wouldn't explain the fact that I could FEEL my body temperature rising and falling, Garak. Actually feel it. It was extraordinary - absolutely extraordinary." He leaned against the biobed, his brow furrowed in concentration. "I mean, it doesn't even seem possible - how can the human body even react that way? I could even perhaps - just barely - understand the sudden changes in temperature, but to have white blood cells created, then destroyed, then created..." He lapsed again into silence. "I mean... it's just not possible."

"Precisely my point. It's impossible. The instruments are wrong."

"But I could FEEL it - couldn't you? I could feel myself getting warmer and then cooler -"

"Well... yes. I could feel the pain return, in my back and then in my head - but when you called out to me I started walking back and it went away."

"And that doesn't tell you anything?" Garak didn't answer. "Garak - we've got to investigate this more thoroughly. Possibly some of it COULD be the result of measurement errors - not all, but some." He frowned. "On the other hand, we both know what we felt. Even if the instruments don't end up telling us a thing is wrong, we both know."

"Doctor." Garak's voice was just above a whisper. "Doctor. If this is true, and if you can't determine the cause, or how to deal with it -"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now - let's investigate this. Please lie down here and let me get a full scan so we know what we're comparing you to." Garak obeyed.

Hours later, Bashir was no closer to an answer than he had been when Garak had first walked into the infirmary. The nurse had returned shortly after he had begun and, after assisting for several hours, had gone back to her room to bed when Jabara arrived to take her place - and still the tests continued. In an interesting twist on Bashir's findings about himself, Garak's body temperature would fall rather than rise when Bashir left the room, but the effect was similar on the Cardassian's physical state - he experienced chills and discomfort and, if his temperature would continue to fall, his metabolic processes, rather than increasing, could slow to dangerous levels.

But in any Cardassian, even a drop of a few degrees slowed the reflexes and the heart rate. It was one of many ways, in fact, that the species could be, and was, controlled and harmed when held captive by Bajorans on Bajoran soil. Deprive a Cardassian of a reasonable level of warmth and shelter, especially over a prolonged period, and that Cardassian would become by turns angry, aggressive, agitated, but then eventually lethargic and quiescent. It was a transformation that Bashir witnessed several times over the course of the tests early that morning - Garak had angrily threatened to leave on more than one occasion, and only Bashir's insistence that the tests were vital to both of them kept him there. 

On Bashir's nineteenth or twentieth journey down the hallway, as he scrutinized his handheld mediscanner and prepared to jog back, he felt a sudden wave of nausea overtake him and he leaned against the bulkhead until it passed. When he returned, he found that Garak had suddenly rushed into the lavatory, vomiting. By and large, though, the results mostly confirmed the fact that pain and respiratory symptoms were the primary issue with the two, and that these symptoms were almost imperceptibly worsening as the morning wore on. Only the precision of the scanners helped show the degree of the worsening at that point, though, as the changes were still so minute.

Midmorning, and Bashir was ready to give up for the time being. He and Garak were perfectly fine physically, at least when they were in relatively close proximity, so he would have had no problem working even longer until genuine and normal fatigue finally took over. But his mental fatigue was already starting to take a toll and cause him frustrations that were beginning to be manifested in irritation against Garak and the nurse - and that irritation was starting to be returned, especially by Garak. Time for a break. But first -

"Garak, I need to talk to Commander Sisko about this. And I would appreciate it if you'd come with me."

"Doctor, after what I've just been through, I'm really not in the mood to be subjected to yet more examination, this time by the commander of -"

"Garak, please. You know he's going to want to see us both, when I tell him about our - situation. Why not just get it over with now?" He paused. "And, of course, you do realize that if I go there without you, I'm going to have a hard time explaining this whole thing if I'm coughing and sneezing at him." Garak inclined his head, finally, in acknowledgement. Bashir signaled Sisko in Ops - the commander sounded both puzzled and bemused and asked the two to immediately meet him in his office. They walked to the turbolift together, not speaking or even looking at each other any longer. There seemed to be nothing more to say.

 

"Doctor Bashir," Sisko said finally, leaning forward at his desk after Bashir had finished explaining the problem and the results of the tests he had performed, "I'm still having a lot of trouble understanding this. How can it physically be possible for your bodies to exhibit the effects you're describing to me?"

"I don't know, sir, but it is. I have over three dozen results to prove it, taken with different instruments and by different people. I'll spend the rest of the day analyzing the data. After I take a little break, that is. We've been working on this since practically the middle of the night."

"Which leads to another question," Sisko replied, watching both Garak and Bashir as they sat uncomfortably and awkwardly together in front of his desk. "What are you going to do about this in practical terms? What's your plan for the future? If this - illness - is indeed causing you both such discomfort when you're not near each other -"

"Sir," Bashir interrupted him, avoiding Garak's eyes, "we had just, as of early this morning, spent the last two days or so alone in our rooms, rather far apart from each other. I believe that led to the strengthening of the effects. I think that now that we know what we're dealing with, spending an hour or two in each others' presence each day should effectively keep the worst symptoms at bay so we can go about our lives fairly normally while I work on this problem. I think a lunch hour together each day, right in the middle of the day, should be sufficient."

Sisko regarded him speculatively. "All right. That seems to be the best course of action for now. I'll contact Starfleet just to make them aware of the situation also. We need to determine a cause - see what, if anything, may be responsible for, ah, 'infecting' you." Bashir nodded. "Oh, and doctor -" the two had risen to leave, "I'd like a word in private with you. It will just take a moment. Thank you, Mr. Garak," he said, dismissing him.

"Of course. Garak, I'll meet you in the replimat." Garak bowed to the two of them and left. Once the door slid closed, Sisko again leaned forward; Bashir, beginning to cough, was still standing near the desk. "Yes, Commander?"

"Doctor Bashir, I don't mind telling you that this situation makes me very uneasy."

"Well, I'm not thrilled with it either - sir." He sneezed loudly into his sleeve and dabbed afterward at his watering eyes.

"I do see now that you weren't mistaken about this." Bashir sneezed again. "In fact, this is completely incomprehensible." Bashir nodded wordlessly. "I would almost have been tempted to consider it some form of Cardassian - weapon - except for the fact that you say Garak is affected too."

"Yes sir, very much so."

"But not as severely, I assume?"

"N-no, not yet." Bashir sat back down. "He seems to have more instances of pain than I do but fewer respiratory symptoms."

"That's what makes me uneasy. Doctor, if what you've discovered continues, I would say that you're at much more risk than our Cardassian friend."

"How so?"

"Let's be totally frank. This is not meant to be an insult to you, doctor, but Garak is a Cardassian with Cardassian levels of physical endurance, and in addition is no doubt trained in intelligence techniques. He's going to have the superior ability to withstand any increasing discomfort or incapacity from this - situation. In addition, he may possibly - just possibly - see an advantage to exaggerating his symptoms so as not to put any suspicion on himself. You said he reports pain. Have you been able to measure anything more concrete?"

Bashir could hardly protest the description of his relatively weaker state, as he was now leaning over in his chair against Sisko's desk, pale and shivering. "S-sir, I HAVE been able to confirm that Garak's body temperature and heart rate are affected by this phenomenon. But in addition... well, I don't believe for one second that Garak is the cause of this or will take advantage of it in any way - in fact, he seems rather horrified at the whole idea."

Sisko thought for a moment. "Yes, Mr. Garak certainly values his privacy and his independence. Which leads me to the next problem. He may decide not to cooperate with you - he may instead decide for some reason that he doesn't wish to spend enough, or any, time in your presence, despite your mutually worsening symptoms."

Bashier began to protest. "No, Commander, he wouldn't do that -"

"All the same, I think I'm going to have to make Odo and his staff aware of this situation immediately. Based on what you tell me and what I'm observing right now -" Bashir sneezed again, "there may come a time that I may possibly have to force Mr. Garak to - shall we say - associate with you."

Bashir hadn't thought of that aspect, and certainly not from Sisko's point of view. He leaned his head against his hand and began, embarrassed, "Commander, I think there's something else you should know." Sisko waited expectantly. "It's just my suspicion, of course, and please don't say anything about this to Odo or to Gar- to anyone else, but - but I feel that Garak is perhaps - " God, this was difficult to say to his commanding officer, "perhaps - attracted - to me. Perhaps. Sir." He coughed. "Just my suspicion. Off the record."

Sisko leaned back and a long sigh escaped him. "Then that makes this situation both less and more difficult." Bashir looked up, confused. "Yes, he may decide to cooperate simply because of 'affection' for you." He too found it difficult to say the word. "On the other hand - doctor, how do you feel about HIM?"

Bashir looked down, embarrassed. "I'm - I'm not sure, sir. I like him, but -"

"But?"

"Well, I - I do like him."

Sisko sighed again. "This makes me very uncomfortable, and not only because a probable Cardassian agent is now both emotionally and physically linked with one of my officers." Bashir looked away. "It's also very uncomfortable for another reason. If at any point during this ordeal you're about to go through, you decide that you no longer 'like' him and don't wish to see him, then what does that do to you? Just how ill will you get from this -" he searched for a word, 'condition'?"

"I don't know, sir. But I don't intend to find out. I'm sure Garak will cooperate with me. I really do feel he will, sir." His head had begun to pound and he waited impatiently for the interview to end.

"And - I know this is farfetched, but - you don't believe that Mr. Garak has any means or any incentive..." he paused uncomfortably, "to... to, well, force you into this situation, in a way."

Bashir gulped. "I don't see how he could, sir. I think he's just as surprised by this as I am. As I was."

"All right. We'll proceed on the assumption that this is all a mystery to be solved. Just do your best, then, to keep the personal out of it. This is a medical emergency, doctor. I want you and Garak to treat it as such. If you like, I can arrange for other station personnel to accompany you during the times you need to be together."

"No, no, that won't be necessary." The thought of now having every conversation monitored and judged began to horrify him - he regretted more than ever his previous remark to Sisko, but it was too late to take it back. "Everything will be fine - Garak knows what we need to do, and in fact he's probably wondering where I am right now." He rose to his feet and started to move toward the door, despite the fact that his talk with Sisko hadn't officially ended. "I'll keep you informed of every development." That sounded odd even to his own ears, but he continued, "I'm sure I'll find the reason for all this as soon as I analyze the tests. It's probably something very obvious that I'm overlooking. Once I track down the cause, I'm sure the solution will be obvious too." He struggled to think for a moment. "Odo can help me by examining the records of all arrivals to the station since this started, to see who or what may have transmitted this. But the fact that I can find no reports of anything similar, and no other accounts of it..." He trailed off, discouraged. 

"We're going to help you, doctor," Sisko told him, noticing his change in mood. "We appear to have caught this early enough, and so far, I think you can handle a bad cold while we see what we can do for you."

"I hope so, sir."

"I hope so, too," Sisko said confidently. "I trust your ability, and I even -" he smiled, "will take your word for it and trust Mr. Garak. Rest assured that the personal issues we've discussed today won't leave this office." Bashir looked relieved. "And as you said, please keep me informed. Dismissed." Bashir turned and practically ran toward the turbolift, then walked, coughing and wheezing slightly, toward the replimat - it felt wonderful, though, to spring back to health so quickly as he neared it, and equally wonderful was witnessing Garak's smile of relief and welcome as soon as he entered the room.

"Doctor! At last - I thought you'd never get here."


	5. Chapter 5

"I'm sorry, Garak." Bashir slid into the seat across from him. "Commander Sisko wanted to - consult with me just a few minutes longer." He smiled at the Cardassian, whose own smile, to Bashir's dismay, had quickly faded.

"Hmm." Garak, irritated, stabbed at his food. "About what?"

"About... the situation. He's confused by it, just as we are. As you already heard."

"And he couldn't continue to express that in front of me?" 

"Well... no. I suppose not. Don't be upset." Bashir smiled again and tried to salvage the suddenly deteriorating mood. "I know we're tired and frustrated right now, but really, I haven't even had time to run the results through the medical database - I don't think this is going to be impossible to solve. In fact, I think -"

"Did he mention anything about you now being at the mercy of the big bad Cardassian?"

"What?!" Bashir was aghast. That, in fact, had been exactly what Sisko had mentioned. "Where did that come from? He's my commanding officer, Garak - he simply wanted to meet with me without non-Starfleet personnel present. In case I have something confidential I wanted to tell him, I suppose. I didn't, of course."

Garak lapsed into silence. Bashir took a sip of his tea and tried again. 

"It's hard to know what to talk about now, isn't it... We've been together continuously for over twelve hours, doing nothing BUT talking." Garak grinned then, very slightly. "And yet I look forward to these lunches with you, to actually have the chance to discuss, well, anything. You have such a fascinating way of looking at things." At that, Garak smiled more broadly.

"Well... thank you. And so do you, doctor. I'm sorry I was rather - impatient with you just now. I'm upset about the situation in which we find ourselves - I don't know what's going to happen, and I dislike not being in control - and constantly feeling sick or in pain doesn't improve my mood."

"Except for now. You feel fine now, correct?"

"Yes."

"I can't imagine what we'd do if... if we were together and were still getting sicker." He shuddered involuntarily - what a thought. What a foreboding thought. At least THIS situation was manageable. "Well, the reality is that, after this, we have to separate again. I suggest we both return to our rooms and try to get some sleep. Then I'm going back to the infirmary and see what else I can come up with about this, and I suggest you go back to work too - we'll just live our lives and get through this bizarre situation the best we can. And remember - in less than twenty-six hours, we'll see each other again at lunch. I'm sure we can hold out that long, knowing that whatever illness or discomfort we feel is only temporary."

"True. But it's a little like being allowed a breath of fresh air just once a day before going back into the sewers."

"Interesting way of putting it." Suddenly Bashir's tuna salad didn't seem quite as appetizing. 

"Oh, and doctor," Garak began, a little petulantly, "I'm sorry for the fact that you're now forced to share lunch with me every single day. I know you weren't always thrilled at my invitations in the past."

Bashir blinked guiltily. "It's not that, Garak. It's just that I'm sometimes - too busy." 

"I understand." 

"No, really - I was sometimes just too busy. I didn't want to disappoint you by saying yes and then having to cancel at the last minute." Would Garak accept the obvious untruth?

"I see." He would not. The two ate in silence for a few minutes. "Well, I thank you for graciously consenting to spend this necessary time with me, doctor."

Bashir put down his fork. "Garak, what's going on?"

"Hmm?" The Cardassian had assumed his most innocently obtuse tone of voice, one Bashir had already learned to recognize - it was accompanied by wide, blinking, upraised blue eyes and an infuriating half-smile. Adorable at times, but usually just damned annoying. As now.

"You know what I mean. You've either been angry with me or feeling sorry for yourself this entire meal. And I don't understand it - this is the one time all day we're going to feel GOOD - why are we wasting it?"

"True." Garak smiled, sincerely this time. "I'm sorry, doctor. You're right - I admit to feeling somewhat - churlish. I suppose I'm just dreading the rest of the day. It's hard to be sick with no hope of recovery."

"I agree," Bashir nodded. "But remember, this is all new to us, a complete mystery really. So we don't know anything for sure. We could wake up tomorrow and be totally cured - I mean, how do we know we won't be? Let's focus on the positive and NOT give up hope. And I've got all the resources of Starfleet Medical backing me up as I look for an answer to this." Garak smiled at him again and the two finished their meals in companionable, friendly conversation. Bashir could almost imagine, as he left the replimat and walked back to his quarters for a brief nap, that he really didn't feel so bad after all - in fact, while his symptoms still suggested he had a re-developing cold, it seemed to be, very possibly, becoming a more minor one. Perhaps his theory, the one he expounded to Commander Sisko, was correct, and scheduling regular daily time with Garak now would serve to keep the illness under control.

 

Or perhaps not. He awoke several hours later, his head pounding, his sinuses throbbing, his cough returning. And he was supposed to go back to work and try to make some sense out of all the myriad of test results he had accumulated earlier that day? Impossible. 

But necessary. He had no choice - he had to go. He forced himself into a hot shower, hoping it would open his sinuses - it did, but only somewhat - and then, shivering, put on a fresh uniform and headed out the door. Still shivering, he doubled back to his room and pulled a heavy jacket on over the uniform, then once more made his way to the infirmary. Commander Sisko was already and unexpectedly there.

"Ah! Doctor! I was just taking a look at some of these measures you gathered today. What I'm seeing is quite remarkable." He gave Bashir a look of concern.

"Yes, I know. And the worst of it is, well... I'm not quite sure if the time with Garak today helped me much after all. It was only a few hours ago but I feel almost as bad as I did yesterday."

"You don't look well either. Sit down." Bashir sat. "Why didn't you stay in your quarters? You can always work from there, you know. Until this whole incident is over, I don't even think it's wise for you to be hiking around the station like this, in fact. I may have to re-think that plan of you taking your lunches with Garak in the replimat. You could very well be contagious."

"No, sir, one thing we're sure of - well, fairly sure, anyway - is that I'm not. We're not, Garak and I."

"But how can you tell, when you don't even know what's causing this?"

A good question. "Well... it's been nearly a week now and not one person has come in complaining of even the most minor cold. And absolutely nothing is showing up on the scans -" he kept talking to forestall Sisko's objections, "and also, well, I just feel I have more resources here in the infirmary to help me study this phenomenon." He coughed, and then, predictably, sneezed. He wished Sisko would leave - this was like having the boss unexpectedly intruding on his own personal workspace while finding fault with everything - and there was no way he could have anticipated this and headed him off. He sighed.

"Well... at any rate, it's good you're here right now. Odo's on his way."

"Odo? What for?"

"To talk about what he's discovered - I asked him to meet me here. He may have some insight - he's been on the station longer than any of us."

"True." Bashir sank back against the chair and closed his eyes, then rubbed his temples and tried not to visibly shiver. The thought that this was just the beginning of a long, long evening, one in which he would need to concentrate and theorize and experiment, then go back to his room and try to sleep, then get through an entire morning still feeling like this... Just who had come up with this ridiculous plan?

"Odo!" Sisko called out. The security chief entered the room, glancing with concern at Bashir who sat huddled and perspiring near the computer. "What did you find out?"

"That the only visitors, with one exception, who have arrived on the station during the past two weeks have been Bajorans. And this phenomenon you've described to me has never afflicted a Bajoran here to my knowledge, ever." He again regarded Bashir with thinly-disguised interest; the doctor smiled weakly back at him. 

"What was the exception?" Sisko asked.

"I'm surprised no one recalled it," Odo sniffed. "The Maarit ship from the Gamma Quadrant, of course, the one with the botanical samples and the very hospitable captain." In a sudden, horrifying instant, Bashir recalled it all - why had it not occurred to him before that? The little ship, the solitary captain who had made a beeline for Quark's and then, in conversation with Quark, Dax, and other interested bystanders, had offered to lead tours of his ship and the plants he was ferrying back to a Wadi colony. The fascinating, beautiful flowers over which Garak had enthused, the fragrant leaves of the miniature trees, the glistening fruits clustered among the stalks of the cactus-like plants, the tiny birds twittering from among the branches of the - 

"Oh God," Bashir groaned; all eyes turned to look at him. "Sir, that's got to be it. We were all over the bay of that ship - we examined everything."

"'We'?"

"Myself, Dax, Garak, Quark, um... an ensign or two, I think, Kira, Nog, another Bajoran I can't recall..." He rubbed his eyes.

"Did anyone touch anything? Take anything with them?"

"No, of course not. But - well, we certainly weren't wearing gas masks. We could have breathed something in. But I scanned for anything dangerous, Commander - I had my tricorder with me the whole time..." With one motion, both Odo and Sisko reached for it.

"This one?" Bashir nodded. "Odo, take this with you and check it out, then return it to the doctor." Odo nodded. Sisko thought for a moment more. "And yet no one else has been affected?" 

"No one. Just myself and -"

"Garak!" Sisko exclaimed, as the Cardassian entered the room, pale, shaking, and limping; he eyed the group gathered there, leaned against the wall, and weakly addressed them. "I'm afraid I - that is, I have to ask - I mean -" He stood up straight then, his gaze suddenly clear and direct. "I need Doctor Bashir. I'm sorry, but I can't stand this any more. I need Doctor Bashir and I need him now."


	6. Chapter 6

"Mr. Garak! That was quite an entrance," Sisko smiled despite the seriousness of the situation; Odo was bemused, and Bashir was sympathetic albeit a little embarrassed. Feeling almost 100% better at that moment, but still embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, Commander. I was slightly desperate. I had difficulty walking here because of the pain." He does know how to put even Sisko in his place, Bashir marveled. Good. This was no joke.

"I understand, of course. I'm sorry - I don't wish to appear to be making light of what you're going through. And now?"

"It's gone. Completely." Sisko, despite already being informed of this probable outcome, looked somewhat amazed. Bashir rose to his feet.

"Well, with Garak here, I think I'll be feeling well enough to analyze the results from the tricorder a little more thoroughly - Odo, may I please..." He reached for the instrument; Odo surrendered it to him. "Let me download the memory files into the computer and then you can take this with you. And, Commander, I know you're going to try to track that ship and contact the captain." Sisko inclined his head - it was quite a sight to behold, to see the formerly trembling, suffering young doctor suddenly take such efficient charge of the situation. "I would suggest you mention as little as possible about WHY we need him to return. There's a slight chance that this may indeed be a weapon of some sort, or at the very least some non-confrontational means of disabling an enemy. He himself may or may not know what he's transporting. But if he's told what we're looking for, he might destroy it - whatever it is - first, either on purpose or by accident."

"I agree. The less information we supply him, the better. I can invent some reason to call him back here. But remember - we still don't know if his ship is the key or not, although I certainly suspect that it is. But we'll keep an open mind about all of this and explore every possibility." He cast Bashir a look of concern. "And now - I'll leave you to your work, doctor." He bowed to Bashir, Garak and Jabara and departed with Odo. Bashir programmed the first set of tests, then turned to Garak.

"Actually, the computer is going to do most of the preliminary analysis for me right now. All we can do is wait. So... I would suggest we talk this through over dinner." Garak nodded, subdued. "Would you care to join us, or can we bring anything back for you?" he asked Jabara.

"No thank you, doctor - I'm just curious to see what this turns up." She sat down at the console and watched a viewscreen with interest.

"I am too. I'll be back soon. Let me know, though, if anything jumps out at you." He paused. "I don't mean literally, of course. Or, really, I suppose that too." She laughed and he and Garak, in much better spirits than they been less than ten minutes ago, left the infirmary and walked to Quark's. The noise and activity of the bar appealed to them both at that moment; the replimat seemed to be imbued with a faint sense of the frustration and unease they had experienced there earlier. It was time for a change of scene. At Quark's, they claimed a table on the upper level, at the back of the area near the holosuites, where they could talk in relative privacy and still enjoy the pleasant atmosphere. It was rejuvenating to the spirit to be free of illness, out of isolation, and ready to begin a new plan of attack.

The two made casual conversation until their meals were brought to them. Once alone again, Bashir leaned his elbows on the table and looked directly into Garak's eyes.

"It's not going to work, is it?"

"Doctor?"

"My idea to have us meet once a day for lunch. There's no way it can work, can it? No way it'll be enough?"

"Ah... no, doctor. There's no way." Silence. Eyes cast down to avoid each others' eyes.

"I felt sick all afternoon, Garak, I mean sick to the point where nothing could help me. I could accomplish nothing either." Garak nodded his agreement. "All I did was shiver and cough and feel miserable - I don't even like to think of what my temperature must have been." Garak nodded again. "We absolutely need to meet more often. Several times a day, in fact. I would propose that we eat all our meals together until this whole thing is resolved."

"I agree, doctor. And what a relief - I was going to propose that too and was afraid you would object."

"No, I don't object. Why would I? Breakfast, lunch and dinner."

"Breakfast, lunch and dinner. Agreed." Garak smiled and extended his hands across the table - Bashir reached forward and clasped both of them in his own. With a shock, he realized that the sensation of well-being permeating his entire body at that moment was almost - sexual. He let go of Garak's hands and concentrated on his meal - neither man spoke for a good long while, and when they finally did, it was about matters even more inconsequential than before.

Afterward, Bashir returned, alone, to the infirmary to check on the progress of the computer analysis - and experienced another vague sense of foreboding when, as had already been the case, nothing at all was presenting itself as the source of their difficulty. Absolutely nothing. He headed off to his room and to bed, coughing, shivering, and aching - with every day, every hour, he was finding himself less and less able to endure his symptoms. His body now felt as if it were both freezing and on fire, as he crawled into his bed and curled up into a tight ball, shaking and sweating. "Oh Garak..." he breathed to himself nearly out loud, "what the hell are we going to do?"

 

At breakfast the next morning, Garak had an answer. He had asked to meet even earlier than the agreed-upon hour of 0800 after signaling the doctor's quarters in desperation. The two rushed out of their rooms and arrived at the replimat, where they promptly claimed a table and stared wordlessly at each other until some semblance of vitality returned. It had been a very long night for both of them. Garak finally took a sip of juice and, staring into Bashir's eyes, placed the cup deliberately back on the table, and began.

"Doctor." He paused. "Doctor, I have yet another - proposal - to make to you."

Bashir had a good suspicion of what that would be, but waited for him to finish.

"I propose that... that we, for the time being... need to share quarters. Just for the time being. I can no longer sleep more than an hour or two at a time, and as you yourself already know, nothing seems to help any longer. In fact, short of you actually sedating me, I don't believe there's any medication I can take that will be effective. Believe me, I've tried." Bashir could only guess what that meant, as Garak's recent prescriptions from the infirmary were not out of the ordinary. He thoughtfully considered the suggestion, one to which he too had of course already been leaning. But -

"Garak, I do understand. We need to do something - I'm suffering from more and more of the effects of this illness all night too and, well... it's starting to seem rather silly, when all it would take is for the other one of us to be nearby. Surely we can find some mutually satisfactory arrangement." Garak nodded. "What about - you moving into the room next to mine?"

A shadow seemed to flit across the Cardassian's face, but he answered, "Are either of the adjoining quarters vacant?"

"No... No, you're right, they're not." Sisko, of course, could order one of his neighbors to move, but Bashir could already sense the ill will that would be engendered if either one of his neighbors, both Bajorans, were told to surrender their rooms to a Cardassian. Especially a suspected Cardassian spy... No, better to move in next to Garak. Garak had already anticipated him.

"I have a Klingon on one side of me now and a rather reclusive - one might almost say pathologically reclusive - Bolian on the other." No, Bashir didn't relish the thought of turning either one of them out either - and what if Sisko gave one of them the doctor's quarters in trade? To have some Klingon enjoying a late-night bowl of gagh on his bed, no doubt being none too scrupulous over where the worms landed... Or a blue Bolian dripping possibly corrosive saliva onto his floor and his furniture as he dined on - whatever strange food he dined on... And then too, what if he couldn't get his room BACK after the arrangement was no longer necessary? Would he really want to be Garak's next door neighbor permanently? Would he?

"How about this? We stay in family quarters. That way, we'd each have our own rooms and our privacy but would be close to each other and - wouldn't have to worry about being asked to trade with anyone." He waited for Garak's answer.

"I - agree, doctor. I think that's the best course of action right now." Was that another shadow that crossed his face? Bashir couldn't tell, but hurriedly finished his meal so they could explore the availability of the room. 

Sisko agreed to their request - hesitantly, but he agreed. There was, after all, little else he could do. After privately cautioning Bashir about not bringing any sensitive or even remotely sensitive information or equipment into the temporary quarters, he arranged for the two to occupy a family suite in the general vicinity of his own. The two men then separated for a while, Bashir first of all to visit the infirmary and arrange for everyone in the group that had visited the Maarit ship to come in for tests. He could just imagine the pleasure such a request was going to receive, and left it to Jabara to relay - the way he was beginning to feel, he was in no mood or condition to argue with anyone. 

And the tests, after all, would probably show nothing - that seemed to be the usual result lately. Another thing he hadn't anticipated but, in the end, expected, was that Sisko and Odo had so far been unable to locate that ship or communicate with its captain - there was no cause yet for worry but it was still not the result he hoped to hear.

He then went back to his room and gathered some clothing and other belongings into a duffel bag. On an impulse, he also grabbed the pillow off his bed, despite the fact that the temporary quarters were fully equipped. It would still feel a little more like home that way. Then he stood alone in the room for a minute or two, fighting a growing headache and wishing that he wasn't so worried about all this. Sharing a suite with Garak could have actually sounded almost, well, FUN, in a way, but not with the threat of who knew what kind of physical decline hanging over them - and then too, what would it be like to be forced to be together so much of the time now? What kind of "roommate" would the Cardassian prove to be, especially under these circumstances?

He didn't have to wait long to find out. He shuffled slowly to the new quarters, carrying his pillow under one arm and the duffel bag over the other shoulder. Every step was more and more draining, though, as he could feel his fever rising and his muscles weakening - until he came to within about a hundred meters of the room, when his strength gradually returned and his head cleared. Garak, then, must already have been inside.

He was, and greeted Bashir happily. He, too, had clearly been able to tell when the doctor was getting closer. A little collection of his personal effects was on the sofa.

"I've just arrived myself - I haven't even looked at the bedrooms yet."

"Well, I assume they're both identical - just take whichever one you want." They turned out to NOT be the same - one was larger, with a larger bed. Bashir graciously surrendered that one to Garak, and amusedly reflected to himself that it was now as if Garak were the parent and he the child, in his single bed and smaller room. The trade-off, if it mattered at all, was that his room was the closest to the bathroom. He set about arranging the few possessions he had brought, and marveling at how totally healthy he felt right then - Garak was at least twenty meters away but still in the same quarters and that seemed to have made all the difference. 

When it came time for him to go back to the infirmary for a little while, though, he stood uncertainly in the living area - Garak had gone into his own bedroom and closed the door - and wondered just what etiquette would demand right then. After all, they weren't sharing these quarters as guests of each other or as close friends - they were simply sharing them out of necessity, little different from simply having adjoining rooms as in the original plan. Was it now going to be necessary to inform Garak every time he planned to leave, and let him know probable return times, just as if he were now living with a - well, with a real partner? 

On the other hand, their unique illness would ensure that Garak knew EXACTLY when he was leaving, so courtesy demanded that he at least be warned... And what were they going to do now about meals? Would they eat any of them together in the room? They could have done that before, in either one of their quarters, but didn't explore that idea. Would it now feel awkward to be alone together that much, even though it would no doubt be a relief to Sisko and the other station inhabitants who were, if they weren't already, going to be more and more afraid of possible contagion?

He tapped at Garak's door and it slid open. The Cardassian was lying on his bed, apparently reading a padd, his arm pillowed behind his head. "Garak - I thought you should know that I'm going out for just a little while, back to the infirmary. I want to check the correlations I've been running between the scans I took of the plants and any known Alpha Quadrant species..." Garak blinked at him; he had obviously been asleep. Bashir experienced such a wave of tenderness right then at the sight of his friend, peaceful and contented and not hurting - and those blue eyes focused on him... Extraordinary.

"I'm sorry, doctor," he yawned. "As you know, I was awake most of the night and it felt so good to lie down and rest." He then turned onto his side and simply gazed at Bashir tiredly. "What was that you were telling me?"

"That I'm - that I'm going out for a little while..." he answered with regret. This was now going to cause Garak a good deal of discomfort just when he had been so pleased that he could finally relax. And what, after all, would be so wrong about staying, or possibly even simply sitting next to that bed for just a minute or two, as sort of an apology for needing to separate; Garak, after all, never claimed any such necessity about getting back to his shop... But Garak wasn't the one working on a cure for whatever illness had claimed them... Then again, why wasn't he? There surely must be some way he could be brought in to help. But Sisko would probably never allow that sort of access to information...

"I'm really very sorry. I won't be long. I'll meet you at the replimat for lunch in, say, two hours?" Garak tiredly nodded but raised no protest; Bashir left the suite and almost immediately felt his headache return and his body start to shiver as he walked. He could only imagine what Garak was experiencing then. And after being awoken so abruptly, and with news like that... "I'm sorry you were feeling better - I'm going to make sure you don't." He sighed. Well, at least they could both look forward now to a good, long, restful, pain-free sleep that evening.

He hoped.


	7. Chapter 7

Lunch was not as pleasant as it had formerly always been. Garak, sick and exhausted all morning, was irritable even after Bashir arrived, himself also sick and exhausted. In addition, Bashir, after arguing all morning with various unwilling subjects of tests and scans, was in no mood to argue with Garak too, and lunch was spent mostly in silence. The two men then bid each other a polite but distant farewell and headed off to spend the afternoon alone, Garak back to his shop for a while and Bashir for yet another futile round in the infirmary.

By early evening, though, both had had enough and met at their quarters. Bashir was so feverish he could barely keep from shaking, and Garak was so cold that the same was true for him. So the relief they both felt when at last they were able to contemplate an entire evening and night in each others' presence, in a long-awaited state of well-being, should have eased any and all tension between them.

It did not. Dinner together went reasonably well - Garak had brought sandwiches and salads home from the replimat, not sure if the replicator in their quarters had been activated yet, and Bashir was touched by his thoughtfulness - he himself hadn't even considered what they would do about dinner. It was rather amusing, in a way, how much like the parent Garak had begun to act, even in this instance, and the doctor vowed to be more agreeable. So conversation during the meal flowed much more freely than it had at lunch time - the anticipation of finally being able to sleep undisturbed by pain or coughing or nausea certainly smoothed things over too. 

They decided afterward, rather than retreating immediately to their rooms, to watch a broadcast of a tennis match from Starbase 18 together. Bashir volunteered to clean up the dining area after dinner and put things back in order. He doubted if Garak was really all that interested in tennis but he welcomed the Cardassian's company later as they sat side by side, but not touching, on the sofa. After a while, Bashir excused himself and went off to the bathroom. When he returned, Garak was no longer seated but was wiping the table and re-organizing the place settings.

"Garak - what are you doing?" Bashir was, unfortunately, back to being irritated.

"Nothing, doctor." So was Garak.

"Are you actually cleaning up again? After I'd just done that?"

Garak stopped and regarded him. "I wouldn't use the term 'again,' doctor." First shot fired. Bashir was stunned. Was his new "roommate" actually going to start an argument over something that petty?

"Garak," he began, his voice low and, he hoped, menacing, "I went to medical school. I believe I know how to clean a table properly."

"Evidently not." Yes, he wanted to argue over something that petty. "Besides, it really doesn't matter. I was sitting there waiting and thought I'd just help you out a little."

"Help me out? I was already finished."

"Evidently n-" Garak stopped talking at Bashir's glowering expression. "Never mind. I'm just restless. Pay no attention to me. Let's go back to the tennis." He went to the replicator and quietly ordered a drink, calling over his shoulder, "Can I get you anything?"

Bashir was still annoyed and merely grunted. So Garak returned to the sofa, cradling a mug of especially pungent rokossa juice in his hand, then sat down close to Bashir's side and took a sip.

"Do you have to bring that smell over here? Without even asking me?"

Garak blinked in shock. "What did you say?"

"I said that stinks - I don't feel like being forced to smell it right now. I've been nauseated all day - can't you give me a rest and get rid of that?"

"Certainly, doctor." Garak had turned to stare at him, then slowly and deliberately brought the mug again to his lips. Bashir reached out and, on a sudden impulse, swept it out of his hand and onto the floor. 

"I told you to get rid of it -" he snarled, at Garak's stunned expression. "And I meant it." Of course, now all he had done was make sure the smell would linger in the carpeting, but that wasn't the point. Before Garak could react, Bashir rose to his feet and stalked over to the door. "I'll be in my quarters, getting some sleep. See you in the morning." He hurried out into the corridor and toward his old room, hoping he wasn't being followed - the truth was, he was now a little afraid of the Cardassian's probable reaction to what he had just done. That flash of temper was totally unexpected on his part and he thought to himself how offended he would have been if Garak had done something similar. However, it was of course too late to take it back and he was still angry enough not to care.

Later on, coughing, shivering, head pounding, he huddled under his blanket, without even a pillow this time, and tried to sleep. It was almost impossible, since the discomfort in his body was accompanied by turmoil in his mind - it wasn't Garak's fault that this situation was so difficult. They'd have to find a better way to coexist since, for the foreseeable future, they were going to be together very, very frequently. He tossed and turned for another hour and then resolved to return to the suite and apologize - it was the least he could do since, after all, he had to his amazement been more of the aggressor in that little skirmish. Maybe entirely the aggressor. Garak had done nothing but give in to his obsessive Cardassian sense of order, probably due to the illness, and then had tried to soothe himself with a comforting drink... Bashir felt more and more regret, the longer he thought about it. 

And there was something else too. He perceived a faint but distinct throb of pain in his heart, not physical but emotional - he found that, beyond his own suffering and frustration, he felt sorry for what Garak was needing to go through. He realized, in fact, that he was feeling the way a - a parent - must feel when a child was sick and there was nothing he could do about it, no matter how hard he tried. 

Interesting, and rather unexpected, this possessiveness. He didn't want to see Garak suffer - he had only a vague sense then of the Cardassian's past, gleaned through hints here and there from different sources, but he was intelligent enough to know that while Garak may never have been an innocent victim, he was certainly paying for many of the bad decisions he had made, or which had been made by others for him, with loneliness and isolation. Yet he could be so empathetic, so clever, so eager to please - some of that was no doubt a ruse but much of it seemed genuine, especially when he was with Bashir, relaxed and outgoing. 

And there was something else in addition even to THAT, something that Bashir found even harder to admit to himself. No one else ever admitted it either, or even seemed to notice it. But Garak was, well, extremely... attractive. For a Cardassian, that is. For a male. For a... a lover, perhaps, if one went in for that sort of thing. Handsome? Certainly that, but more than that. Fascinating, magnetic, appealing... 

Oh hell. The man was gorgeous. Damn. Bashir buried his face in his arms. No wonder he had always been so tentative where Garak's "overtures" were concerned - he could all too easily imagine making a total fool of himself and taking things further than Garak was even intending. And now he had to spend many of his waking hours in such close proximity with him, all while having no idea of what the Cardassian really wanted - a friendship with a little flirting to keep things interesting? A brief liaison until he grew bored? A real relationship? Or a mentor/student type of arrangement in which he would act as Bashir's counselor or advisor until the next student came along... 

Whatever it was, he couldn't make Garak suffer any longer that night - the right thing to do was to go back to him and apologize. He climbed out of bed and had almost reached the door when he began to feel much better, much lighter - and thus wasn't at all surprised when the door slid open and Garak himself was standing on the other side of it.

"Doctor -"

"Garak -"

"Please - allow me to apologize -"

"No, no, you didn't do anything wrong. It was my fault entirely."

"No, doctor," Garak had stepped into the room so the door could close behind him, "I feel I deliberately antagonized you."

"By putting away some dishes and drinking some juice?"

"I knew I was annoying you."

"Well, so what?" Bashir smiled. "So what if I was annoyed? You have every right to live the way you want to in your own room - our own room. I think I've just been getting so frustrated by everything that I was looking for a fight."

"So was I." Garak smiled back, a little more tentatively. "Still... I don't want you to think I was criticizing you in any way. I know how hard you've been working, and under these conditions too."

"Yes, well, it's too bad you can't just be there when I -"

"When you what?"

"Never mind. Just a thought. We'll discuss it later. For now, I think we'd better go back to our rooms and try this again, all right?"

"I agree. Thank you, doctor."

"Julian."

"Thank you, Julian." Garak's sigh of relief was loud and heartfelt. "Thank you. Oh, and you'll hardly even notice any smell - I cleaned everything up the best I could."

"Oh Garak..." Bashir sighed. "Thank you for being so forgiving. What I did was awful."

"Let's just forget it, then, and start over." The two walked companionably back to their shared quarters, then bid each other good night and disappeared into their separate rooms. Bashir curled up under the blankets, warm and comfortable and contented. He quickly fell into a deep sleep, not noticing yet that his sore throat was very slowly, almost imperceptibly, returning.


	8. Chapter 8

"Please, no, this can't be happening," Bashir thought, horrified, as he awoke the next morning with a burning throat and a pounding headache. "We're only meters apart from each other's room, we've spent the whole night near each other, we've -" His mind raced - then he suddenly realized that there was quite possibly no real cause for alarm after all; Garak must simply have gotten up earlier and had gone out for a while. That must be it. No reason to be concerned, certainly no reason to panic. He heard the door chime signaling him, so he painfully climbed out of bed and walked out to the living area. Why would Garak need to signal to be let back in?

Jadzia Dax entered instead. "I stopped by to see how you both were - no one's heard from you in a day or so and we were wondering if -" She stopped. "Julian, you don't seem to be doing too well - you look pale."

"My sore throat's back, among other problems. But I'm not worried about it - I believe Garak's already left for today. So at least there's an explanation." Suddenly the door to Garak's bedroom slid open and the Cardassian himself entered the room, looking just as pale as Bashir and, at first, just as uncomfortable. The three stared at each other.

"Garak," Bashir began, almost afraid of the answer, "Garak, have you - left this area at all since last night?"

"No." He let that sink in. Dax looked from one to the other. 

"Then that means we're still getting sick. No matter how close our rooms are, no matter how long we stay here, we're still getting sick. I'm afraid I - don't know what to do to stop this." 

"Ah, Julian..." Dax began awkwardly, "you're not sick now, are you?"

"No - no, I feel fine. Now, anyway. You?" He turned to Garak.

"Also fine."

"Then that means..." She stopped. All three knew what that meant. 

Bashir squared his shoulders with determination. "Dax, would you please tell Commander Sisko about this new development. It appears that Garak and I are going to have to, um - shadow - each other even more closely for the foreseeable future. I'm going to need access to the infirmary's computers in this room too, if it should be the case that at some point I no longer wish to leave here." Dax's eyebrows went up but she said nothing - in addition, both she and Bashir knew that Sisko wouldn't be pleased with the fact that Garak would be, by default, granted much more access to station computers as well, should he choose to make any use of them. But there was little that could be done about it. "But first - I'm - we're - going back to our old quarters to gather whatever we need for a longer stay here."

"Yes, but Julian - I don't think you need to isolate yourselves yet. After all, just as you said, you both feel fine now. As long as you and Garak are in reasonably close proximity, you should be able to go about the station the same as always."

"I hope so, but that close proximity seems to be getting closer and closer." Garak said nothing but appeared both embarrassed and uncomfortable; Bashir deemed it best to send Dax on her way so they could discuss this situation alone. "I'm just making sure we're prepared for anything. I'm still hopeful I'll be able to solve this soon - I've got Jabara helping too, and Sisko mentioned that he was contacting Starfleet - I've already been in contact with Starfleet Medical, but if it becomes necessary to send someone here to help, I'm sure they will." He smiled confidently. "In the meantime - Jadzia, don't worry. We're not going to be locked up in here alone - you'll see us, and I hope we'll see you. Garak doesn't mind visitors - do you, Garak?"

"Hmm? Oh - no, no, of course not," he answered distractedly. "Of course not. The more the merrier."

"That's a rather interesting way to put it," Dax almost smiled, her face nonetheless tinged with worry. "I wish there were more we could all do to help you. It's so frustrating for us too. But at least you're able to keep this illness, this situation I mean, under control."

"Let's hope it stays that way. Let's hope the commander and Odo can find that ship too."

"They're working on it as hard as they can. I'll go talk to him. See you both later - and may I just tell you..." She paused. "May I just tell you that I think you're both very brave, and I admire you for what you're doing for each other. I mean, to be forced from out of nowhere to have to go through something like this..." She moved forward as if to grasp both of their shoulders, then smiled and hurriedly left. Garak and Bashir in unison sank down onto the sofa, side by side, not looking at each other.

"Did you notice she didn't touch us?" Garak finally said, staring straight ahead.

"Yeah." Bashir was silent for a moment more. "Almost did, then thought better of it."

"You can't blame her."

"I know. Still..." He sighed. "Still, I have a funny feeling that we're going to be left pretty much alone here from now on." He sighed again, then rose to his feet and assumed a more cheerful expression. "Well, I suppose we should see about breakfast - Chang." Garak turned to stare at him.

"'Chang'?"

"Yes, and I guess that means you should call me Eng." Garak continued to stare, confused. "I'm joking, of course - but you do know the reference, don't you?" Garak shook his head. "I thought maybe when you were learning Standard... Chang and Eng were two brothers born in the early part of the 1800's on Earth, centuries ago - they were conjoined twins, or what became known as 'Siamese twins' after that, because they were born in a country called Siam at the time." Garak nodded - he had heard the term. "They were joined side by side at the chest - they became quite famous."

"Famous? Why?"

"Oh, for a couple of reasons, really. First of all, they went on display throughout the United States as curiosities." Garak worriedly began to blink. "But after that, they decided to stay in that country, so they bought a farm, married two sisters, had almost two dozen children between them..."

"Are you serious?" Garak was incredulous. "You mean they had these children after they were able to be separated, of course."

"They were never separated, Garak." A pause as he ordered tea at the replicator. "Medical technology wasn't far enough advanced at that time. They shared a liver, for one thing, and there was no way the physicians of that era could work around that. So they spent their entire lives joined together." Another, longer, pause. Garak blinked even more rapidly and nervously; Bashir sank back down onto the sofa and closed his eyes. "Their entire lives."

"But - but - how was that possible? You just told me they had wives and children, doctor!"

"I know. I read that they basically surrendered control to the other one, on different days. So one day they'd be at Chang's house, the other day at Eng's - and I suppose... well, I suppose the same kind of arrangement had to take place even in bed." Why was he in such a hurry to bring up the subject of bed? Too late - Garak was again staring incredulously at him.

"I just can't imagine that." 

"Well, we don't have to imagine it, or worry about how. You're not - seeing anyone, are you, Garak?" He smiled awkwardly. He had no idea why he had asked such a bold question right then; he suspected he knew the answer to it but it was suddenly of paramount importance that the answer be no, and that it come from Garak's own mouth.

"No, doctor. Not in that way, and definitely not here on this station. I'd be shocked if I were. What about you?"

"No." Garak waited for him to elaborate; he did not. This was more and more awkward - but on the other hand, it would have been infinitely more so if Garak had brought up a partner. To Bashir's amazement, his overriding emotion right then was not fear or tension but plain old-fashioned jealousy. Of Garak - or more precisely, of any potential partner of Garak's, male or female. What a relief, to hear his answer. Of course, his friend could be lying... He slightly changed the subject. "And do you know one of the strangest things about those marriages, Garak? That the main objection of the parents of these sisters was not because Chang and Eng were conjoined - it was because of the fact that they were a different race!"

Garak laughed. Bashir watched him, happy that he could make him laugh at a time like that, mesmerized by his eyes and his smile. Fascinated with his Cardassian-ness too - he idly speculated about what either of their sets of parents would say to any union between them - would they object because the two were of the same sex or because they were of different species? What a thought. What an interesting train of thought, one which he was looking forward to pondering when the situation wasn't so dire. He had not the slightest idea of what Garak's parents would be like, and as for his own -

Garak had turned serious again. "Doctor - do you know how they died? How it happened?"

"Yes. Well... they were both in their sixties, I think. Chang died first, of heart failure, I believe." He sat silently for a moment. It hadn't occurred to him until then that the parallels were not merely interesting but potentially terrifying. "And, ah... Eng died a few hours afterward."

"Hmm. Had he been sick too?"

"No. Not that the doctors could determine. The consensus at the time was that he died of fright of his impending death. But I think the opinion now is that their systems were too closely entwined."

"Doctor -"

"Yes, Garak. I know." 

Silence again.

"Doctor..." Garak murmured, "what would happen if..."

"I know."

"Would the bond be broken, or would -"

"We're not going to have to find that out, Garak. Please don't worry. We're going to solve this."

"But -" Garak began, then exhaled. "You're right. Why worry unnecessarily?" As if there was necessary worry, Bashir thought, but Garak continued, "I assume we're going to run a few more - tests?"

"I think we already know what they'll show us, but yes. We should have some breakfast, then get back to the infirmary. Let's measure these latest changes, see what we're up against this time."

The results were not at all encouraging. The two found that even a separation of ten meters caused symptoms to return - a separation of over fifty meters caused body temperatures and blood pressures to either rise or fall to dangerous levels, based on the patient, and a separation of hundreds of meters would, Bashir privately concluded, quite possibly and rather quickly kill them both. They were truly joined together, unable to be separated, with exactly the same effect as if they had indeed been conjoined. 

The situation, in fact, was so serious that even Commander Sisko struggled to find words of encouragement when he stopped by their quarters later. Bashir perched on the edge of a chair, Garak nearby on the sofa, while the commander told them of the, so far, futile search for the Maarit ship, disappeared far into the Gamma Quadrant - that, after all, had been its eventual destination. In hindsight, it was clear to Sisko that he should never have authorized any contact with that ship whatsoever - hindsight was so logical, so obvious, but on a space station whose main purpose was to make friendly contact with beings from the other side of the wormhole, hindsight was often useless. 

And after all, the captain of that ship HAD been most friendly and accommodating. Almost eager, in fact, to receive guests - almost too eager. Bashir filed that impression away in his subconscious and returned to his computer for the afternoon. Garak of necessity had to remain nearby, and fell asleep on the sofa while Bashir worked. When the doctor rose to retrieve a padd from his bedroom, however, Garak awoke, shivering and irritated. 

And yet all Bashir had done was go into a room in the very same suite. He was well aware that the sleeping arrangements that night were going to have to be readjusted, and readjusted soon - he was becoming exhausted from worry and concentration and needed to rest. After dinner, he asked the Cardassian to help him push the sofa up against Garak's bedroom wall.

"What for?"

"Well, I'm going to have to sleep here, of course. We can't be more than ten meters apart. You know that." 

"Doctor - it's not fair that you should be the one sleeping on the couch. You've worked the hardest, you need the rest more than I do - all I've been able to do is read and watch holovids."

"I know, but... but Garak, you're a Cardassian - I know it's cold here for you. You're suffering enough. The bed is warmer. You need the bed." He quickly retrieved a blanket and spread it over the sofa before Garak could protest.

"No, doctor - Julian. No. I'll stay here. You go get some sleep. I'll be fine." They stood nervously facing one another. The solution was obvious. Bashir was the one who finally proposed it.

"Or - we could - share the bed. It's big enough."

"Yes..." Garak answered slowly, his eyes impossible to read. "Yes, we could. And you're right - you'd hardly know I was in there with you."

Bashir glanced up at him, but his expression remained neutral. "Not a problem, then?"

"No, certainly not. It seems by far the wisest course of action, doc- Julian." He smiled, rather shyly, Bashir thought.

"All right. I'll be right back - see you in a minute." He quickly went to his room to "dress" for bed - long pants, socks, long-sleeved shirt, then took his turn in the bathroom. He then climbed into the neatly-made bed while Garak, too, disappeared into the bathroom, and returned to the shared bed likewise completely clothed to the neck and ankles. Bashir even caught a glimpse of his thick fuzzy socks as Garak tucked his legs under the blanket. Both men clung to separate sides of the mattress as Bashir called for lights out. A minute or so passed while they lay staring awkwardly, and now wide awake, at the opposite walls. Finally Garak spoke.

"Doctor? I'm afraid I'm unable to sleep."


	9. Chapter 9

"So what would you like me to do for you, Garak? Tell you a story?" Bashir snapped, then blushed at the thought of how his first question could have been interpreted... Would he never stop second-guessing every statement now as potentially suggestive? 

Garak hadn't noticed - or at least, he answered as if he hadn't. "It's just that - it's too quiet. My mind keeps spinning." Bashir could definitely sympathize. "When I need help sleeping, I sometimes listen to nature sounds, doctor - it's quite soothing."

"Okay - that's a good idea. I'd like that too. Do have anything here we could listen to?"

"As a matter of fact - I have a wonderful program of Cardassian forest sounds already installed. It makes me feel at home again - I think you'll also enjoy it."

"Fine. Go ahead and play it. Not too loud, please, though."

"Of course. Thank you." Garak instructed the computer to run the program and the two settled back against their pillows, still as far apart as the mattress would allow. The darkened room filled with the sounds first of a light fall of raindrops, then the calming cry of birds in the distance. Just a little too loud, but Bashir found that he too was soothed by them and had begun to drift off into a pleasant doze. He then became aware of a low growling followed by a screech, which was in turn succeeded by a roar so unexpectedly intense that he sat bolt upright, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.

"GARAK!" He looked over to Garak's side of the bed; the Cardassian was almost buried in blankets, but he could discern his form under them, shaking with laughter. "Very funny. Would you please turn that off?" The roaring had now been accompanied by the high-pitched shrieks of a creature obviously fighting off the first one. Garak called out again and the animal sounds ceased, to be replaced by a light, peaceful rainfall. "Much better." Bashir again burrowed down into the blankets as the distant Cardassian rain sent both men into slumber.

The next morning, Bashir jumped out of bed almost as soon as he opened his eyes, to avoid the potential awkwardness of lying there, awake, with Garak, when it was no longer completely necessary to do so. It did sound appealingly awkward and quite tempting to remain, but he couldn't bring himself to indulge in that little luxury just yet, at least not their very first morning sharing a bed. He'd have to hope that Garak would wake up first, one morning, and then he'd see what HE did... In the meantime, he was relieved to find out that his symptoms had not worsened, as far as he could tell, during the night. Garak joined him soon after and reported the same thing. 

They still needed to stay nearer each other than in previous days, but the ten meter rule seemed to remain in effect and Bashir was able to take a shower and then even retreat to his room to shave without the Cardassian needing to be there with him. He had to be close by, though, as they both discovered when Garak in turn had gone into HIS room - the sensations were very uncomfortable and Bashir quickly moved to the living area. They were just about to leave their quarters and enjoy a breakfast at the replimat when Odo's voice signaled them from the comm system.

Doctor - Garak - I'm afraid I have some bad news." Bashir felt a wave of panic wash over him. 

"ODO! Don't do that to me! What bad news? Is it about the ship?!"

"Oh no - I'm sorry, doctor. I'm very sorry." He did sound gruffly contrite. "I shouldn't have said that - forgive me for alarming you. No, we haven't been able to locate the ship yet but I have hopes we'll make contact soon. The Wadi colony has been alerted and is also assisting us. No, I'm afraid my news is more immediate to your - situation."

"And that is?" Garak then addressed him, his eyes wary - he spoke into the air as Odo was using just the voice channel.

"I'm afraid that Commander Sisko has made the decision to confine you both to quarters, effective immediately."

That proclamation, truthfully, was not a total surprise, but Bashir still protested. "May I ask why? We're not contagious, Odo - we've certainly proved it after all this time."

"Doctor, we really don't know that. No one can. We were possibly negligent in allowing the two of you to move about the station at all after this started - but we can't change that now." Bashir attempted without success to interrupt him. "The main reason for this action has to do with your vulnerability if separated. Commander Sisko examined the results from your tests yesterday and also spoke with Dax -" 'I knew it,' Bashir silently fumed, 'I knew she'd change her mind,' "- and he's come to the conclusion that you'd both be much safer in an enclosed area where you can't be separated for any reason." Bashir, in answer, slammed his hand down onto the console, cutting the connection.

"He's right, you know," Garak quietly told him. "I don't know why you're so angry. You yourself told Dax you were expecting to spend most of your time here now."

"Yeah, but now that I have no choice - that we're basically imprisoned here after all -"

"But he's right." Garak sighed and placed a hand on the doctor's shoulder. "Yes, we're prisoners now, but we always were, ever since this started. And I confess that I was becoming more and more worried about something happening to delay you, whenever we were scheduled to meet - there seemed to be so little point to being apart. And now - we can think and work with clear heads, knowing things don't seem to be getting any worse. For the moment."

While he was speaking, Bashir had moved to the door and made several attempts to open it, but it had of course been remotely locked by Odo in his role as head of security and wouldn't budge. For all he knew, there was possibly even a guard posted outside to keep watch over them. He returned to the couch and angrily flopped down onto it.

"I know, but - but I feel so helpless here. So useless."

"You have computer access to the infirmary. And I'm sure someone will bring you whatever you need."

"I know. But -"

"'But,' doctor? Are you simply frustrated at now being officially trapped here with me? Could that be it?" Garak watched him intently; his face wore a half-smile that did not reach his eyes.

"No, Garak, that's not it." It wasn't. The real issue was that Garak was now officially trapped with HIM. Would the Cardassian become bored with him, disillusioned, wish he were with someone else after all? But he certainly couldn't tell him that. "You've been nothing but patient throughout all this. You're a very considerate roommate." He smiled back, more sincerely.

Garak nodded, relieved, and helped him set breakfast out on the table. They replayed the holovid of the tennis match of a few evenings ago while they dined, to make the room a little less silent and their thoughts a little less preoccupied. It occurred to Bashir that, with all the worry and with the illness that came and went, he had been neglecting his own exercise program and should ask for some equipment to be brought to the room too. An hour later, two technicians arrived, wheeling in a treadmill, a set of weights, and a bench. They were wearing coveralls, masks over their mouths and noses. Bashir glanced into the corridor when the door had opened to admit them. They had indeed been escorted by two security guards who remained outside the room. 

He sighed. Security guards? Really? There was something more than a little humiliating about all this, but he, as a physician, had no idea why such simple and logical precautions should be annoying him. 

It was most likely the presence of security that did it - but in their defense, Odo and Sisko were dealing with Garak too, a definite unknown quantity, yet now critically important to Bashir's well-being. But as for the fear of contagion, the hazard suits, the guards - the fact that he and Garak had spent days walking around the station, mingling with station personnel in the replimat, in the theater, in Quark's bar... well, these new precautions were all either totally futile or totally unnecessary. But what could he do about it now? Absolutely nothing. And, he reflected, Sisko no doubt felt the same way - he had even paid them a visit the previous day, and now - virtual quarantine.

So rather than spending the afternoon in front of the computer, he decided to go for a light jog on the treadmill, just fast enough to get his blood moving and relax his muscles. After asking to make sure that Garak wouldn't be disturbed by the noise or the motion, he changed into exercise clothing and warmed up with a short walk, then began to jog. He had pivoted the treadmill so it faced one of the video screens in the room, and became absorbed in watching the video version of the forest sounds Garak had "treated" him to the night before. He was dimly aware that Garak, of necessity, was seated on the couch a little off to the side in the same room, but assumed the Cardassian was again concentrating on his reading and was paying him no attention.

That was not the case. Something made Bashir turn his head slightly at one point and he, to his disbelieving but somewhat pleased surprise, saw that Garak was watching him intently, a glass of what appeared to be kanaar in one hand. Bashir quickly looked away in hopes that Garak hadn't noticed he was observed. "Interesting - I'm the afternoon's entertainment, am I? So that's the situation now, is it, my friend - or are you just bored?" Either way, the thought that he was being watched and, he hoped, admired, over a drink almost made him laugh - it made him self-conscious too and he nearly lost his footing, then quickly recovered. 

Twenty minutes later, rather flushed and with a light dew of perspiration on his face and neck, he stopped the treadmill and reached for a towel hanging from the handle. After drying off, he approached Garak, who was already pretending - as Bashir assumed, anyway - to be totally absorbed in the padd he was reading. 

"Show's over. Your turn."

"Hmm?" Garak looked up, blue eyes blinking innocently.

"Your turn. You can use the treadmill now, if you like - and I really think you should. You can't just sit all day - we're not sick, you know, I mean not now."

"I know. I'm just - not used to - those things. I'm afraid I'll fall off."

"Well, I can teach you, show you how. Come on - get up. Enough reading." Garak stood, and let himself be led to the treadmill where Bashir showed him where to place his hands on the bars until he got the hang of it. Bashir privately reflected that he had never seen such pretense - Garak was very obviously physically fit, perhaps even trained for combat, as the muscles firmly evident under his shirt and in his thighs attested - but he gripped the handle tightly and walked relatively slowly, Bashir supporting him with a hand on his arm and his lower back. 

"See how easy it is?" Garak nodded. "The only thing is, you're a little overdressed for it right now. And it doesn't help that we're keeping this room so warm." Garak turned to look at him. "May I turn down the heat?"

"No." Decisively.

"All right, then... Do you want to keep going?"

"No." Garak stopped the belt and stepped down. "I'm not in the mood for exercise right now. I'd like to take a nap."

"You can't possibly be tired."

"All this waiting around for nothing to happen makes me tired."

Bashir couldn't deny the truth of that. "All right, I'll see you later. I'm going to take a shower and then get back to work. I'll wait to eat until you get up." Garak bowed to him and disappeared into the bedroom. Bashir then went into the bathroom and started a delicious hot-water shower - if the station was going to quarantine him, it could damn well pay for all the hot water he cared to use also. He wasn't sure if it was the heat or the moisture, but he felt pressure in his sinuses and the beginnings of a headache that seemed to get worse, not better, the longer he stayed there. 

Then he went into his bedroom to dress; he had expected to feel his symptoms return while there, as he and Garak had already determined that their separate bedrooms were too far apart now for "comfort," as it were. But he hadn't expected to feel quite this ill - his head pounded and his vision blurred, as he started to shiver with fever. As he hurried, he heard Garak call to him from outside the room - he had experienced the same thing.

"I'm afraid that... that is, I think... there's been another change, Garak," he announced worriedly as he entered the room. "I started to sense it this time while I was in the shower - but the bathroom's within ten meters of your bedroom. Just barely, but it is." The two stood together contemplating this new development. "In fact - would you mind going in there? The bathroom, I mean?" Garak wordlessly obeyed, and Bashir moved to the doorway of their now-shared bedroom but didn't enter. He still felt the same symptoms, though, and called for the computer to measure the distance between the two men as they moved closer together, then further apart. 

They didn't even need to wear biosensors to be able to instantly tell when the illness was returning and when it retreated. It was now very definitely the case that the furthest they could be apart without any effect was about five meters, give or take a few centimeters. A halving of the distance in just a day. Unbelievable.

They ate dinner in silence. The implications of this discovery were - well, hard to believe also. Bashir was tempted to think that possibly the exercise was responsible for it, but the distances kept inexorably declining in the past too and there seemed to be no logic or pattern to that either. But because the living/dining area in their quarters was itself about ten meters wide, depending on where one stood, it was now the case that he and Garak would need to be closer together even while in the same room if they didn't wish to suffer. And bathroom breaks were now going to hurt, basically, unless the other man stood right outside the door... And if the distance kept decreasing... 

They lay in bed that night not speaking, not listening to rain sounds, not even closing their eyes, just staring up at the ceiling and thinking. Garak finally looked over at Bashir, tense and preoccupied in the darkness, and quietly said, "Don't worry - it'll be all right." Just those few words, so patently uncertain but so comforting, were enough, and Bashir finally drifted off to sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

Bashir spent the next morning in conversation - not with Garak, but with Sisko, Dax, and O'Brien, separately via the comm unit. No sooner, in fact, did he finish speaking to one person than another one would signal him. The pattern of the talk was always exactly the same - he would be offered expressions of sympathy and support, told that everyone was doing all they could do to help, was asked if there was anything further he needed, and then finally was questioned rather uncomfortably and obliquely about how, specifically, he and Garak were managing things, locked up together as they were. It was especially awkward to have to address this issue with the Cardassian sitting nearby but just out of viewer range; Bashir was just resentful enough of their inquiries not to mention that fact to anyone. Let them keep wondering. 

It was only Odo who penetrated right to the heart of the question - he contacted Bashir not via communicator but via a secure computer text message. Bashir had been at the desk desultorily scrolling for the hundredth time through test results when Odo's message popped up on the screen, waiting for his access code. He opened it.

"Doctor - please accept my regrets for the steps I needed to take to ensure your safety. Your lifesigns are being monitored along with Garak's, but I would appreciate regular communications from you. I will be visiting your quarters shortly to assess the situation. I've expressed to Commander Sisko that I am most likely not at risk of contagion because of my nonhumanoid status. In addition, if at any time you feel uncomfortable with or distressed by the current living arrangement, please alert me and I will join you in your quarters - I am leaving that to your discretion for now, but will make my own determination later. Odo."

Bashir sighed and called out, "We're having company soon, Garak."

"Hmm?" The Cardassian was sitting at the table drinking a glass of the offending rokossa juice - far out of Bashir's striking range this time. "Who?"

"Odo."

"Ah." He took another drink. "I thought he might come by. He's probably the only one who can, or who'd be willing to now."

"Wants to 'assess the situation,' whatever that means."

"He wants to see for himself that we're cooperating and not fighting."

"Well... if we don't pass muster with him, guess what - he's moving in with us." He smiled as he saw Garak set his glass down rather abruptly. 

"How do you know?"

"He said so. He said if I was ever distressed..." He let the word hang in the air.

"And - ARE you ever - distressed - doctor?"

"Of course not. Well, I mean, not by you. Yes, I'm very frustrated by this whole situation, but you've been nothing but kind to me and I really appreciate it. After all, it's not as if we knew each other very well, before this - you're really having to give up a lot of your privacy, Garak. More than you should ever have to."

"So are you, of course."

"It just seems different, for me. I'm part of Starfleet - I came here expecting to experience new, possibly dangerous things, meet new people, have new adventures, serve others in ways I never imagined... but all you were doing was running your shop and living a normal life."

"Yes. Yes, I suppose that's one way of putting it." Garak took another sip of juice; Bashir had the sudden and distinct impression that he had offended his friend in some way.

"I'm sorry - I didn't mean -"

"It's fine - and you're right, doctor, my life certainly was quite boring before you came along to rescue me."

"GARAK! That's not what I meant!"

"The brave young Starfleet doctor and the shopkeeper. Sounds like a novel - well, a very boring novel, anyway. Perfect for me to read during the many slow periods in my day."

"Garak, that's not fair. You yourself told me about the shop when you introduced yourself to me, for God's sake! And now I can't even mention it?" Garak was silent. "I think you're just looking for a fight again." He didn't answer. Bashir, frustrated, rose to his feet.

"I'm going into my room. Let me know if Odo arrives." He stalked off, sorry he couldn't also slam the door. This was ridiculous; Garak's defensiveness seemed to be without limit. The stress, no doubt, was getting to him, as was the tension of sharing a cell, really. On the other hand, at least their "fights" weren't about anything very serious - what if they had started out with differences they could never reconcile? What if they simply found each other's behavior or habits, or even the other's preferred room temperature, intolerable? What then? For that matter, what would he have done if he himself found it impossible to be "trapped" there with someone else? How would he have managed? 

What if, for example, it had been QUARK who had come down with this illness with him - Quark had been on that ship too... So had Kira - so had Nog, and even a Bajoran associate of the major's who looked down on the Federation and delighted in systematically pointing out everything Starfleet was doing wrong... He had certainly been a test of patience to bring along and listen to, that afternoon; at least Garak had come to Bashir's defense as they all talked and debated and argued afterward at dinner. In fact, of all the people who had visited the Maarit ship with Bashir, Garak was the only one with whom Bashir could even imagine going through this. Not even Dax, really. Just Garak. 

Just... Garak. How strange that the one person he had found he would least mind being alone with, for days at a time without interruption, should be the very person who had contracted the disease with him. There had to be some reason for that, something about the interaction or the physiology that only the two of them shared, that he was still overlooking... He'd have to analyze the test results yet again, but concentrating this time on the similarities between the two of them and not just the differences between Garak and himself and every other visitor to that ship. There must be something that could account for this. Why Garak? And, for that matter, why HIM? He bounded to the door, which slid open to reveal Garak falling backwards into the room; he had been sitting on the floor, his back against the bedroom door. 

"Garak! Sorry! What were you doing there?" 

Garak scrambled to his feet, taking hold of Bashir's arm for assistance as he stood. Her hesitated a few seconds before replying.

"Doctor... I hate to tell you this." His tone was reluctant but ominous. "After you - left, I felt myself getting sick. Again. So I quickly moved to your door and stayed there." His eyes avoided Bashir's eyes. 

"But - there's no way I was more than five meters from you when I was in here." He stared at the Cardassian. "There's no way - not if you had stayed where you were when I left."

"I know. I did."

"Besides, I didn't feel any -" No. That was incorrect. In his anger, he had indeed started to feel a headache forming, but that headache had quickly dissipated - no doubt when Garak had just as quickly moved to sit against his door. Oh God.

"Let's not panic. Let's just measure this again, just as we've been doing, and see what's really going on." He grabbed a mediscanner and the two began the familiar ritual of pacing around the room and comparing the results. And the results were troubling. It was now no longer possible for the two to be more than two and a half meters apart, perhaps even a little less than that, before symptoms began to manifest themselves - and now if they were to simply stay in their own separate rooms, as they had done on the first day, the spikes or troughs in their temperatures and blood pressures would be more severe than any they had so far experienced. Bashir didn't linger too long over that particular test. 

He didn't need to. The conclusion was obvious. He and Garak would need to stay not only in each other's presence but even, really, within two arm's lengths of the other. If this kept up - and all indications were that it would - there would possibly come a time when even sitting across from each other at the same table would be almost impossible. 

He sat down next to Garak on the couch, not speaking, his eyes closed, willing himself to calmly breathe in and out. Thinking. Worrying. Realizing that - "Garak, it seems there's absolutely nothing I can do to stop this. There's going to come a time, possibly very soon, when we could almost be, ah, sitting on top of each other and still be dying from this." He sat quietly a moment more and then gave in to his frustration, leaning down, his head in his hands, his eyes tearing up. Garak placed a tentative but comforting hand on his back, murmuring again, "It's going to be all right." Just then, the door slid open and Odo entered the room.

"Well," he began awkwardly, "I see you two are..." He left the sentence unfinished.

Bashir raised his head, embarrassed, his eyes still slightly wet. "We're doing as well as can be expected, Odo. Really. We're fine. I was a little - discouraged - just now." 

"Any new developments?"

"Just one - we're now unable to be more than two meters apart or we get sick. We can't even be on opposite sides of this room."

Odo's normally expressionless face held a look of grave concern. "It sounds to me, then, that you both should be moved to the infirmary where you can be placed in isolation there -"

"No, I don't want to do that. There's really no point. There's nothing we haven't thought of, or tested, or tried... And I assume you have no word yet about the ship."

Odo shook his head sadly.

"Then we wait. That's all we can do." 

"It may be a long wait. We've sent for a specialist from Starbase 16 but that will take a few days. In the meantime, there must be something else we -"

Garak flashed him a withering look. "Doctor Bashir and I thank you for your encouraging words." Odo looked contrite. "But I suggest you redouble your efforts to find the ship and that cargo. That seems to be the only thing that will help us." He rose as if to dismiss him, then realized he could move no more than a meter or so away. "So if you have nothing more to tell us, we were just about to have lunch." His tone clearly implied "without you," but Bashir spoke up out of politeness.

"Would you care to join us, Odo?"

"No thank you, doctor. I'm going to talk to Commander Sisko and make sure we're not overlooking anything. We've sent a runabout through the wormhole to help in the search."

"Thank you," Bashir said sincerely. "I know you're trying." The three walked to the door, Bashir noticing that Odo positioned himself so neither he nor Garak could pass him - as if there were any reason they would, at that point. "I'll stay in contact with you."

"Update me as often as you can. Every few hours, if possible."

"All right. Every few hours." Odo nodded to him, nodded more curtly to Garak, and left. Bashir sighed.

"I want to work at the computer again for an hour or so. I hope you don't mind."

"Why would I mind?" Garak asked pleasantly.

"Because you're going to have to stay right next to me." Garak shrugged. They moved over to the desk, and Bashir sat down in front of it, Garak pulling up a chair and settling into it nearby. After a while, he shifted the chair even closer to Bashir, then leaned over and put his arms loosely around Bashir's waist from behind, finally resting his head, his eyes closed, against the doctor's back and starting to doze. Bashir, amazed at the position Garak had taken, nonetheless never moved, and Garak couldn't see the peaceful smile he now wore as he worked. Perhaps even in the middle of a horrifying situation like that, some shred of hope could be salvaged. After all, that seemed to be the first really intimate contact they had ever shared. And this time, finally, Bashir didn't shy away from the touch at all.


	11. Chapter 11

That night, there was little reason or opportunity for modesty any longer, as the two got ready for bed just a meter or so apart. They had their backs turned to each other, though, as they undressed, then each waited patiently outside the bathroom door as they one by one took their turns inside. Once in bed, they lay closer together than they ever had previously, no longer clinging to the sides of the mattress. On the other hand, they still weren't touching. Bashir tried not to dwell on the fact that the bed was about two meters wide, perhaps just a little less, so they were less than a meter apart when they were lying in it. What would happen when that was too far? How would they make that emotional adjustment?

It wasn't the idea of much closer contact that he feared, it was the absolute necessity of it, and the almost certain inevitability of the illness that would shortly overtake them both once no degree of proximity was enough. He shivered, and sensed Garak looking over at him in the dark. Again the two lay with minds churning in intense concentration. Bashir had refused Sisko's suggestion of sleeping medication - he wanted to be alert for any changes in their condition, and if a change was severe enough to wake him, then he wanted to face it with all his senses intact. But he hadn't realized how impossible the thought of sleep would become, both for himself and for Garak. Maybe it would have been better to have eased the suspense a little - what was going to happen would happen, after all. Was it really so important to greet it instantly when it did?

Garak finally spoke into the silence. "I'm sorry, doctor - Julian. I'm afraid I can't escape the fact that this is my fault in some way."

Bashir stared back at him in amazement - Garak was facing the ceiling, though, and avoided his eyes. "YOUR fault? How? You didn't - you didn't touch anything on that ship, did you? I never saw you handle any of those plants - and even if you did..."

"No, no, of course not. I confess that I almost did, but - no. I simply mean that, if I hadn't gone onto that ship at all, you wouldn't be suffering now. This wouldn't be happening."

"How did you come to THAT conclusion?"

"Well, isn't it obvious? We're both affected by whatever is causing this. If either one of us hadn't been there, we wouldn't be sick now. Simple as that. And you invited me to join you - I should have refused."

"You did refuse, when you saw that Kira was going! I kept persuading you. So by that logic, I'M the one who should be apologizing. If I hadn't insisted you join us, or gone myself, then you wouldn't be affected now. Garak, this whole line of thought is basically pointless." He glanced over again to make sure he hadn't caused offense. "And actually, I've been thinking a lot about that very thing. That's what I was studying today, in fact. What is it about the two of us that caused this to happen? I mean, why not every person on that ship? Or ANY person? Why not you and Quark," he felt Garak flinch, "or you and Kira." Same reaction.

"Or you and Dax." Garak turned to face him. "I don't think that would have been the worst fate you could ever have endured, doctor." Oh - so he had noticed the undercurrent to the budding friendship Bashir shared with the Trill - but he didn't have to worry. Dax was amused by him, nothing more, and his adolescent-style crush was fading by the day. On the other hand - was Garak jealous? Was that what he sensed in his voice just then? No wonder he became so petulant when he felt he was being belittled - a mere "shopkeeper," and all the rest of it. So now, at last, before it was too late, it was probably best to end the guessing and the hinting and put everything out on the table. 

"You know, Garak," he took a deep breath, "I definitely think the time has come to be honest. To talk about - all of this."

"About all of what?"

"Well -" He stopped; this was more difficult than he had expected, after all. "Garak, am I wrong, or have you been - interested - in me for a while?" Maybe he shouldn't have phrased it that way, taken that tack, made himself seem so uninvolved - the Cardassian stayed completely silent. All right, he'd have to try a different angle, make it mutual. "What I mean is - have I been imagining things, or is there something going on between us?"

"Between us, doctor? In what way?" Garak's tone was guarded and he had shifted slightly further away; Bashir sighed. He might as well forge ahead - after all, soon enough, they were going to need to get closer than either one was prepared for anyway. He slid over to the Cardassian's side of the bed, put one hand on either side of Garak's face, leaned down, and kissed him. Just a light kiss, very quick, but it was on the mouth and Garak's eyes widened with surprise. Bashir lay back down next to him and waited.

Finally - "What was that?"

"A kiss, Garak. It's called a kiss. It's when two people purse their lips and -"

"Yes, yes! I meant - why did you -"

"Because you really didn't answer my question. So I asked it in a different way." Bashir continued to wait.

"Doctor -"

"Julian."

"Ah - Julian," Garak began awkwardly, "the answer is yes. My dear naive boy, of course the answer is yes. I've been - interested - in you since the first day I saw you. I couldn't take my eyes off of you, in fact - you're absolutely breathtaking, and after I got to know you a little better I discovered that you're just as appealing as a person. Surely I've given you enough hints so that you can't be surprised now." 

Whew. Whatever he had been expecting, Bashir certainly hadn't expected THAT, and in such a calm voice and a carefully considered manner. He blushed and his heart began to race as he contemplated how to answer.

"However, I had no idea how you felt about me, and really, I still don't," Garak continued, "- but that Maarit captain sensed something, which encouraged me, I must admit. So I increased my efforts after that - while I could." 

Bashir finally found his voice, but just barely. "Sensed something? Between us, you mean?"

"Yes. He was quite a busybody, I believe you'd call it - talked and talked to me, wanted all the station gossip. He's very interested in people, very extroverted. It was difficult for the translator in my communicator to keep up with him - it missed quite a few words. But he was basically questioning me about every person in our little group, what they did, what made them happy, and - now how did the communicator translate it - whether any of us were 'love partners'..." Garak's sudden flood of words seemed to be another nervous defense mechanism, but Bashir was relieved when he also saw him smile. 

"And what did you -"

"You realize, doctor - Julian - that I didn't say anything to him about you. But he looked at you, then back to me, and said my love partner and I must be very happy together. I then explained that we were hardly even friends, much less, ah, 'love partners'." 

Another silence, both men lying side by side and gazing up at the ceiling. "And are we, Garak?"

"Hmm?"

"You heard what I said."

"Well, I would say that's entirely up to you. You heard how I feel."

"But lately you've been so - I don't know -"

"My dear doctor." Garak raised himself up on one elbow finally and faced him. "My dear boy, how would you feel if someone you suspected was not greatly welcoming your company was now forced to spend every moment of their lives in your presence? Would you expect the situation would lead to love, or would it instead destroy even the friendship you hoped to share?" 

"I see what you mean." Bashir, nonetheless, shifted a little closer to him. 

"And so I have to warn you - this circumstance, being here alone with you, touching you, sharing this bed - we have to be very careful. You can't kiss me here, in bed, and expect me not to respond."

"Of COURSE I want you to respond!" Bashir exclaimed. "Why would I have done that otherwise?" 

"I don't think you're ready for what I would like my response to be. We were forced into this, remember - we have absolutely no choice. We're going to get closer and closer, whether we want to or not, and I don't want our friendship and, I had hoped, our relationship, to be destroyed because of that. What a terrible irony that would be, for however long we have left."

"Garak - it won't be destroyed. It can't be, not any more. I'm sorry I was a little evasive with you in the past - I didn't know what I wanted." No reaction. "I was fascinated by you and, believe me, very attracted to you. But you're so different from me, from every type of person I had ever assumed I'd be with." He paused, reflecting. "I just needed more time. I got what I needed. And now," he drew close to the Cardassian's side, "would you please do me a favor?"

"Anything, doctor," Garak answered, surprised.

"My name here in bed is Julian. And I'm not a boy - I'm a man who made a decision to kiss you. So would you please stop talking and analyzing everything and just kiss me back?"

Garak did. His arms reached out to cradle Bashir around the neck and then he brought his lips to his; Bashir was almost holding his breath. He had always found Garak's full lips very appealing to watch, and fantasized about how they must feel - now that they were, in fact, pressed against Bashir's own, he found it difficult not to sigh with pleasure. So he did, which caused Garak to deepen the kiss until Bashir's arms, in turn, wrapped around the Cardassian's neck too, pulling him even closer. They kissed for what felt like hours, but was in reality probably no more than ten minutes or so; all the tension of the last few days melted away and all the fear of their worsening illness seemed so much more tolerable then.

By mutual and unspoken agreement, however, they remained side by side. After a while, though, Garak began to maneuver Bashir slightly underneath him, then immediately stopped what he was doing, kissed him one more time on the mouth and on the cheek, and rolled over onto his other side.

"That's it?" Bashir panted.

"Yes," Garak murmured. "That had better be it for now. Go to sleep."

As if he could - there was now a new kind of tension taking the place of all the others - but this one was quite sublime. Bashir grinned in the dark, then snuggled against Garak's back and whispered, "You know best, my love. See you in the morning." Garak didn't answer, just extended his hand to grasp one of the doctor's hands.

They awoke hours later, warm and contented and not showing any symptoms of illness of any kind - until they each sat up on opposite sides of the bed and pain began to overtake them both. Bashir resolved not to give in to panic; Garak evidently felt the same. So they calmly, together, walked to the communicator to tell Sisko the bad news. He answered them just as calmly - the two of them, so outwardly healthy, so cheerful even, were nevertheless facing an almost certain death sentence and Sisko knew it. They could now be no more than half a meter apart without severe effects, and the distance seemed to be shrinking rapidly.

The two decided to behave as normally as they could, given their new status as conjoined twins both figuratively and, now, literally. So they ate breakfast, sitting closely side by side. Then Bashir expressed a wish for a shower - unspoken was the implication that this could possibly be the last chance he'd have for one, and a shave. So Garak, not noticing the mischievous look in his friend's eye, obediently followed him to the bathroom, where Bashir started to undress. 

"Wait - let me turn around first."

"Turn around? What for?" Bashir grinned at him.

"To give you some privacy, of course!" 

"That's going to look rather silly, you know."

"Silly? Why?"

"The two of us showering back to back..." 

Garak raised an eyeridge. "I believe I've already told you that sort of thing could be dangerous."

"Any more dangerous than what's already happening to us?"

Garak ruefully shook his head and also began to undress. Reversing the pursuer and pursued roles had, to his pleased amazement, been very enjoyable, but there was only so much restraint he could be expected to show after such an invitation. He smiled and joined Bashir under the hot water.


	12. Chapter 12

Once they were together, though, naked, wet, the lights low and the water cascading all around them like rainfall, Bashir threw his arms around Garak's neck and cried, all playfulness and desire temporarily forgotten. Quietly, almost embarrassed, but he cried. Garak had no alternative but to hold him, their bodies sealed together, skin on skin and scales, water cascading down onto their heads, their backs, into their faces. Garak tilted Bashir's chin upward and kissed him again, thoroughly and passionately, almost drinking him in along with the warm water. Bashir clung to him, to his muscular body, caressing him as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to do, as if he had never been shy or hesitant or afraid of Garak in his entire life. As if they had been lovers since the day they met. They finally broke the kiss, their mouths only a few centimeters from each other.

"I'm sorry I'm being such a coward, Garak," Bashir smiled apologetically, his eyes reddened. "That's the last thing I thought I'd do. But..." He couldn't speak and Garak held him even closer, nestling his face against him. "But - it's not that I'm so afraid to die, it's that I don't want to leave you, to leave here. There's no reason for it. I can't believe this is how my life is going to end. I can't even fight it." 

"D- Julian, all we know is that we need to be together. We don't know that we're going to die," Garak murmured into his ear, against the sound of the water. "We have no idea what's going to happen. Please, my love, don't despair now."

"But it's inevitable. We keep getting closer and we keep getting sicker. At some point, we're not going to be able to be any closer and yet we'll still most likely..." He let the sentence trail off at Garak's look of determination.

"Then we'll face it when the time comes - believe me, there are things much worse than that." He smiled his brightest and most encouraging smile, the one Bashir found absolutely irresistible. "At least we know we'll be facing it together. But right now, we're here, we're alive, and there are better ways we could be spending our time." There were indeed - the kissing, the emotions, the warmth, the extreme physical closeness had combined to render both men, despite the situation, rather urgently aroused. Bashir decided to forego the shave - Garak proclaimed his stubble endearing anyway. They wrapped towels around themselves and staggered quickly and awkwardly back to the bed, where Bashir again clasped the Cardassian around the neck in an almost smothering embrace.

"Julian... Julian," Garak kept repeating as the two struggled together on the bed, legs twining in the blankets, towels and pillows flung in all directions. He adored the nearness and the passion even though he knew the only reason for it then was their shared sense of impending doom - there was no way the human would have so rushed things, moved them to a level so far beyond the kisses they had shared the previous night. This was the passion of a long and intimate relationship, suddenly uprooted from time and transferred to this moment, to this instant.

But it was nonetheless real for all that. Garak attempted through his greater strength and his force of will to pivot Bashir around onto his stomach; Bashir in turn struggled to stay on his back as he continued to embrace him and kiss him. But Garak was determined; the position and role he was assuming were traditional for Cardassian spouses and, without wishing to cause any offense to his human lover, he urgently wanted to take the dominant position, to claim Bashir, for all time or for this brief time remaining, to possess him, to hold him so close that he was completely unable to break free. Bashir sensed that need soon enough and acquiesced, settling himself face down upon the heaped blankets and pillows, his heart pounding with nerves and with desire.

He knew what was about to happen and knew enough about his own body to realize that he was inadequately prepared for that type of penetration, but he had no intention to stop or even hesitate. He trusted that Garak would move with him as gently as possible - and he did. Warm and wet with lubrication, his body resting between Bashir's legs, Garak let his lover set the pace and slowly allow him entrance; he met every waver of resolve with a patient confidence, never forcing but never retreating. 

Soon enough, the words of endearment he was whispering combined with his caresses to calm and relax his partner sufficiently so that he could ease all the way in. He felt Bashir gasp in surprise when that happened, when he bit him gently on the back of his neck and then began to thrust, but he grasped Bashir's arms with his hands while kissing the back of his damp head, and all was well. Bashir flinched only once from pain; Garak clasped him even more tightly against his body and he could almost feel the wave of well-being wash over them as Bashir sighed, contented. 

They slept for a few hours after that, arms wrapped tightly around each other's bodies, Bashir's head pillowed on Garak's chest, Garak unconsciously reveling in the scent of his lover's hair. Bashir awoke first and listened to the Cardassian's deep, regular breathing for several minutes; he discovered he was terrified to move a centimeter lest he find out they were, indeed, already in the final stages of their decline. But his body remained relaxed and calm, just the slightest soreness left to remind him of what had taken place between them, nothing at all to do with their illness. He shifted a little further back, arms still around Garak's chest, and continued to feel perfectly at peace, perfectly healthy. Was the ordeal over? He was afraid to find out.

He then became aware of the sound of someone moving around the living area, then speaking softly, most likely into a communicator. Odo. Odo had come to be with them and, no doubt, to decide where they should spend their remaining days or hours; Bashir heard Sisko's voice respond to him. Garak was roused from sleep by the same sounds, and the two lay side by side in the bed for a while, hand in hand, not speaking. They sat up, finally, still hand in hand - still no ill effects. They quietly kissed each other on the shoulders, necks and lips - all was peaceful and calm. But when they released each others' hands, a wave of pain and nausea attacked that was so intense it nearly brought them to their knees.

So. They needed to stay in physical contact now, skin to skin. All right. What must be, must be. They wriggled and squirmed until they each managed to retrieve and wrap the towels around themselves again - their clothing was still on the floor of the bathroom. Then they stood, readjusted the towels, and went to greet their visitor. Odo regarded them with concern and compassion but not shock. He delivered their clothing to them and politely turned his head while they each slipped trousers back on. Then the three of them sat together on the couch, Garak and Bashir with fingers tightly entwined and thighs closely touching, Odo a little further away.

Bashir sought first to thank him and reassure him. "I'm - we're - very grateful you came by to see us, Odo. I would have contacted you when I got up - to tell you about..."

"I couldn't let you be alone any longer. In fact, Commander Sisko and I are going to arrange to have you moved to the infirmary as soon as he can clear the corridors and set up a sterile field there -"

"No, please, don't do that. There's nothing they can do for us there - believe me, I know. I've tried everything." Garak nodded in mute agreement and looked down at the floor.

"We're not going to leave you here alone," Odo gruffly remonstrated with him. "That's unimaginably cruel and we won't do it. We're all going to be with you and - support you through this." He stared miserably at them.

"But we're not alone," Bashir replied, squeezing Garak's hand. "We have each other. And what's so remarkable is that as long as we're touching, we feel wonderful. Maybe this is as far as it'll go - maybe our conditions will stabilize in this way while we look for a cure."

"Doctor - if you're separated even for a few minutes..." He didn't need to finish the sentence. "I think possibly I should -" He stopped speaking but transformed one of his hands into a rope which he then used to encircle their joined arms, binding them together with several turns. Garak smiled, and Bashir did too after his initial surprise had faded. "I think I should find something for you to use to make sure you don't separate inadvertently. This will make it easier for you." Bashir nodded as Odo removed the rope, reconstituting like a snake uncoiling. 

Odo still remained seated, however, his smooth face nevertheless reflecting worry and concentration. "We believe that we're very close to locating the ship. But we've already examined the plants and the birds it was carrying based on the information contained in your tricorder. I'm hoping that its captain can tell us something we continue to overlook, some bit of relevant information we haven't yet considered."

"Oh, I think I've considered everything, Odo," Bashir sighed, and looked over at Garak for confirmation. "What else can he offer? And except for the fact that he seemed to feel that Garak and I were partners at that time, there's nothing else that would distinguish us from anyone else, nothing that would be poisonous to only humans and Cardassians, as far as I can determine."

Odo turned to look at them intently. "You say he thought you were - partners? Romantic partners?"

"Yes," Garak answered for them. "He seemed very curious about that, very happy to move things along - it's almost as if he wanted to play matchmaker after I told him we weren't. I suppose, in hindsight, it was a little odd that the only two people he focused on were the doctor and myself." He spoke without a trace of embarrassment; the situation was too far advanced now to be concerned about such things. 

Odo continued to stare. "But that's as far as it went? Nothing more? After all, it's also very odd that you two should then be the only ones sick."

"Oh, he offered me a gift," Garak said. "The translator wouldn't even touch the words - something like lompies and yonties. I only remember them because they rhymed. He said he had something only for lovers."

"'Lumpy yumpies'?"

"Something like that. I told him I couldn't accept anything - I swear to you, Odo, I touched nothing. I was worried he was going to push these flowers or birds or whatever they would turn out to be into my hands, but he didn't. Just smiled at me and continued the tour."

"So that's it?"

"That's it."

The three sat in silence. Bashir finally leaned his head against Garak's shoulder; Odo tactfully took no notice. After a moment, Garak said, almost as an afterthought, "Actually, now that I think of it, we DID touch something. Someone, rather."

"Who?"

"The captain. He shook our hands as we left. Very strong grip - took my hand and held on - for several seconds, wouldn't you say?" He looked over at Bashir, who nodded.

"Garak, that is extremely important information! I'm stunned that you didn't think to mention it previously."

"But, Odo, he shook everyone's hand. Everyone who visited his ship, as we disembarked. He thanked everyone and pumped their hands the way humans do. So it doesn't seem likely that he was contagious only to us..."

"That is by no means certain. Doctor Bashir, you say he took your hand too? Before or after he made contact with Garak?"

"Neither - it was at the same time. He grabbed my right hand and Garak's left. Then he wished us a pleasant day and moved on to the next person. Nothing seemed at all out of the ordinary. Remember, Odo, he was a VERY friendly host."

"Did he have the same type of contact with everyone else? Two by two? Or individually?"

"No, I think we were the only ones he..." 

Odo rolled his eyes. "So he held the two of you by the hand, just you two and no others. He made sure to touch both of you simultaneously, shortly after which you both began exhibiting symptoms of this mysterious illness. And that tells you nothing?"

Garak looked stricken. Bashir gasped, then sat forward, alarmed. "My God, Odo, he transmitted something to us. He gave us something! He must -"

"Yes, it seems he gave us a gift after all," Garak sighed. "He did want us to be together." He held up his hand, linked with Bashir's. "And we've certainly been together."

"With absolutely no choice in the matter," Odo growled. "No choice then or now, and with an untreatable illness that becomes more severe by the hour."

"But absolutely nothing has ever shown up on any of the scans," Bashir reflected sadly. "No virus, no bacteria, nothing."

"Is it possible you didn't know, then, what to scan for and where?"

"Well, certainly it's possible," Bashir conceded. "He was holding nothing in HIS hands when he touched us, but of course I never scanned his hands, just the plants and the birds. I suppose there could have been something microscopic - but it would have shown up in us later. Wouldn't it?"

"Perhaps - but perhaps not. As an obvious example, have you ever heard, gentlemen," he smiled mirthlessly, "of the concept of a cloaking device? Not detectable either. Just a thought." He sat back, ignoring their horrified and incredulous stares.

"Odo, this is Dax," his communicator suddenly chirped. "We've found the ship in the Gamma Quadrant - it's heading back to the wormhole and the station."

"When will it arrive?"

"Still unknown. But we've made it clear to the captain that we don't have much time." Bashir gripped Garak's hand, gazing meaningfully into his eyes. For all they both knew, time would run out. But for now - they thanked Odo once more and bid him good-bye as he left for Ops, then turned again to each other. There was really nothing else they could do.


	13. Chapter 13

They decided to move into Bashir's former room in the suite, the one with the smaller bed - it would be much easier that way to make sure they didn't physically separate even during sleep. They also took Odo's suggestion and wound a torn strip of soft towel a few times around their wrists, Garak consenting to "sacrifice" his right one and Bashir parting with his left. Inconvenient, to be sure, but no more inconvenient than breaking their contact and then suffering the warning headaches and the almost instant nausea. 

The bathroom was a particular trial for two men as fastidious and private as they both were - they undid the strap and attempted for a brief period to separate, but the symptoms were so severe that it was easier just to stand awkwardly behind the other, a hand on the shoulder or back. Very awkward indeed, and not something Bashir, even as a physician, looked forward to continuing. 

But they managed - they could manage anything now. It was remarkable how cooperative, how intimate they were becoming. Bashir marveled at the fact that just two weeks ago, if it had even been that long, he had jumped when Garak's hand brushed his, and now he was lying next to the Cardassian in bed, nearly or completely naked, massaging his back and gently feeling along the neck ridges with his fingers and his lips. Garak's body was like a feast to him now, now that he felt free to explore it - he loved the overlapping scales along the back of the neck, the soft ridges on the chest, the little ridges that ran from the ear to the chin; he also loved the part of Garak's face that seemed most human, the bit of soft gray cheek just under the eyeridges. Oh, and those blue eyes, constantly speaking even when the Cardassian himself wasn't saying a word. Absolutely mesmerizing.

The truth was, he discovered that he loved Garak's entire body, and later that afternoon, as the two of them languidly lay in each other's arms once more - there was really very little else that seemed worth doing now as they awaited the inevitable - Bashir was occupied with kissing lower and lower along Garak's chest until he felt fingers gently twining in his hair, holding him and stopping him. "It's all right, Garak, really - I won't hurt you. I know I'm inexperienced, but..."

Garak smiled. "As if you ever could, my love. No, it's only that you've been doing so much for me. Let me." 

"Let YOU? I don't think I'm ready for..." Garak ignored him and, still keeping firm hold of his hand, slid down and positioned his face next to Bashir's body, then with his free hand reached out and gently touched him. His fingers lightly brushed over the testes as if they were the most precious things in the world and needed to be handled with the utmost care - the touch sent shivers through Bashir and his breath came in shallow gasps. There was something about giving up this sort of control right now that thrilled him - even more than the forceful lovemaking earlier, this was stunning in its intimacy. 

He stopped breathing altogether when Garak leaned forward and followed the touch with his tongue; as he explored further and began to take some of the human's length into his mouth, Bashir closed his eyes, crying out meaningless phrases in an attempt to control his body and stop himself from wildly bucking against his partner while encouraging Garak to increase the pace, all at the same time. The thought that this was Garak, and Garak's mouth, doing this to him sent him almost over the edge. "No - please - this is - don't - you don't have to - no - I mean, please - no - really - no -" Finally Garak did stop at the litany of "no's", raised his head, and murmured, amused, "My dear b- Julian, do you want me to continue or don't you?"

"YES!!" Bashir screamed, flopping back down onto the pillow. He dimly recalled that just a short time ago, he had been undressing with his back to Garak, to preserve his modesty - and now he would like nothing more than to have Garak's mouth travel over every centimeter of his bare skin. And while the physical sensations were extraordinary, it was the thought that someone like Garak truly cared for him, wanted him, could bring him so effortlessly to a peak like that - yes, a Cardassian, and yes, a male! Just wait until everyone found out that this was real, this was no illness-induced infatuation, this was... Was this a headache he felt, between his eyes? Was he starting to shiver, or just trembling from the aftereffects of orgasm... No, he was starting to shiver. With Garak's fingers laced through his fingers and Garak's mouth still kissing his stomach, he was indeed starting to shiver and perspire with fever. 

Garak felt it too, felt it inside himself. His kisses stopped and he whispered against Bashir's skin, "My love, I hate to tell you..."

"I know. Hurry - let's wind the blankets around us - quickly - we need to get really close. As much contact as possible." Garak wordlessly complied. Bashir tapped the communicator next to the bed. "Commander, it's getting worse. I don't know how much more time we have." That was all. He then reached out and pulled Garak tightly against him, closing his eyes but not crying this time. No more crying - he was smiling instead. Smiling along with Garak because, after all - wow, what a way to go. 

 

"Please, Commander Sisko - please, Chief Odo, please accept my deepest and most humble apologies - I grovel at your feet, sirs, I grovel at -" Odo had hauled the half-kneeling Maaritian back to a standing position. "I had no idea my little creatures would cause such trouble - I had no idea that -"

"You've very nearly killed my chief medical officer," Sisko shouted at Aulis, the captain of the Maarit ship, now cowering in fear in his office. "As well as a resident of this station, neither of whom meant you any harm and NEITHER OF WHOM deserved your interference in their lives." He stopped; he was becoming nearly hoarse with rage. Aulis timidly looked up at him.

"I simply wished to make them happy. I wish for all beings to be happy. My lovely flowers spread joy throughout the quadrant, as you call it," the universal translator had at first rendered the word as unintelligible, "and I had assumed that my lempen yontens would too. I was so sure of it, in fact, that I had at first assumed you were contacting me to convey the thanks of the two individuals I assisted."

Sisko almost sputtered in his anger. "Captain Aulis, you're going to have to - what did you call those organisms?"

"Lempen yontens."

"Please say the names aloud again until the translator can come up with equivalent terms in Standard," Odo instructed him. Aulis did so.

"Lempen yontens. Lempen yontens. Passion bugs."

"PASSION bugs?!" Sisko and Odo both chorused. "You're telling me that you've infected my people with poisonous insects, with - with LOVE BUGS?!" Sisko, totally flustered, sank down into his chair. 

"Y-yes," Aulis replied, eager to explain. "But they're not 'love' bugs, sir. It goes deeper than that. That must be why your translating device faltered over the term. Lempen denotes love, passion, a favored status with another being, a - a sweetheart, as it were. These tiny creatures live under the petals of the kulta flower. They choose two likely hosts and then create pleasant thoughts of attraction toward the object of desire, inducing happy dreams and relaxed, sensual sensations. But they are most definitely not poisonous and, in fact, have no effect if the feelings are not mutual."

"Whether or not that's true, they're making the two men you infected so sick that they're about to die, and we have no way of stopping it. They're killing them."

"Oh dear. That wasn't supposed to happen. That never happens. These insects feed off of emotions and feelings, Commander - the stronger the feelings they sense, the lovelier the thoughts they induce - and those two had very strong feelings for each other, very strong unspoken feelings. The passion bugs set up complementary nests and imbue the hosts with a mirror image of their own attraction for each other. But physical illness is never a part of that - are you sure it was the bugs?" he asked hopefully.

"YES!" Sisko thundered again. "You've obviously never inflicted these creatures on any other species outside your own, or at least outside the Gamma Quadrant - how do you know their effects on other life forms?" Aulis tilted his head in acknowledgement. "But we have no time to discuss this now. Right now, our immediate priority is to stop the infection - how do you reverse the effects? Can you neutralize these - bugs?"

"Oh yes. If they're truly causing the issues you describe to me, they're no doubt very ill themselves and eager to return to a more hospitable Maaritian host but were unable to find a way to do so. I'm very sorry. This happened only because of a wish to share joy. I knew we Maaritians were special but I didn't realize how special." He smiled to himself. "We have a gift for creating happiness. We truly have a gift."

Odo grunted with impatience. "Congratulations - and now you may create happiness for me. I'm willing to consider your assistance with the removal of these organisms as restitution in lieu of prosecution. We'll provide you with whatever you need - but we have to act immediately."

Sisko glanced placatingly at his chief of security. "Constable, Captain Aulis has willingly returned to the station to help - and I'm sure he will, without any hesitation. Isn't that right?" He glared at the nervously fidgeting captain.

"Certainly! Certainly! Yes, of course! All I need is to be taken to the two love partners and touch them again - the passion bugs will then rush back to me and this problem should be solved. I realize now that they must have been lonely and disoriented in those unfamiliar hosts, and were longing to rejoin each other. You say the two men became very ill - I assume the symptoms eased when they were together..." He was lost in thought, and Sisko did not feel it necessary to speak. Odo did, however.

"Captain Aulis, how will we know you've been able to successfully remove these creatures? They haven't shown up on any of our scans."

"Oh, passion bugs would never allow themselves to be scanned, Mister Odo!" Aulis laughed. "They're impossible to coerce or to measure, just like love itself!" This time, Odo glanced irritably at him but did not press him further. Aulis, Sisko and Odo hurriedly left the office and were joined by Dax, Kira and O'Brien at the turbolift; the entire group wanted to be present at the "rescue" now that they knew there was no danger of infection. They all marched down the corridor, boots thundering on the metal flooring, Aulis grimly hauled along by Odo. 

They reached the family quarters shared by Bashir and Garak, Sisko calling for the lock to be disengaged, and rushed into the suite. The first bedroom was empty, to their consternation, but Odo surmised the men had not left the area but were simply in the second bedroom. As one, the group ran for the opposite door, which slid open to reveal the two subjects just about as close as it was possible for two men to be, hastily and clumsily attempting to pull a blanket back over themselves. Aulis smiled, cheerfully clapped his hands together once, and approached the pair. 

 

Four hours later. The tests were finished, the no doubt useless scans were completed, the friends and well-wishers had left the celebratory dinner at Quark's and were now back at work or at home, and Bashir sat alone in his quarters, his "original" quarters, looking out at the stars and thinking. He was trying to compose a note to Garak that would explain just what the last few weeks had meant to him, and how much he appreciated what had happened, after all. 

Yes, it was now time to resume their normal lives, to live independently again even while they continued their relationship. It was time to go back to his patients and for Garak to go back to his customers, his secrets, his Klingon and Bolian neighbors - who, he found out later, had been most concerned about their "friend's" well-being. Nice to know that Garak had others who cared about him on the station after all - nice to know that he wasn't as isolated as it appeared. Nice for him, too, that he had his privacy back and would no doubt refrain from ever taking it for granted again - just what did he need with a human constantly hovering around him? Nothing. 

But things were different now. Bashir knew Garak cherished him, loved him even, wanted to be near him. So why did they have to revert to the fiction of separate lives? Why couldn't they continue to be as close as they had been for those few brief, intense days? Well, perhaps not THAT close, but together. Would the station really be so intolerant of the human doctor and his Cardassian lover, if that became the norm instead of an aberration brought on by an alien parasite? Why couldn't they be as accepted now as they were then? 

Bashir sighed. They couldn't. They'd need to spend time apart to convince themselves as well as the station's inhabitants - being forced together had brought out the best in each of them but it was still an unnatural situation caused by an unnatural agent. They'd now have to go through the difficult but ultimately rewarding work of forging a real, lasting relationship that could handle separations, disagreements, the petty stresses of everyday life. 

They now had the freedom to leave, if they felt it was necessary; would Garak ever tire of him and go? What if they fought - would it be as easy to reconcile as it had been when not reconciling was simply not an option? Would Garak be as apologetic as he had been or would he simply storm off and tell Bashir to go to - wherever? 

Actually, that thought made Bashir smile - that sounded so much like something he himself would do. God, how he missed Garak already, and it had only been two hours or so since dinner. He missed him. He especially missed simply feeling sure of his presence, knowing he was near. They didn't have to constantly talk and interact - they could just BE, and take comfort in each other. He was really going to miss that, no matter how many lunches or evenings together he hoped they would now share. 

He sighed and headed for his bedroom, already dreading just how cold that bed would feel. The freedom now to sprawl out, take all the space he wanted, take all the blankets if he chose or throw them all on the floor if he also chose, snore loudly if he felt like it without worrying about disturbing another living soul - and best of all, fall asleep without feeling feverish and sick - well, this was going to be a long-awaited and well-deserved pleasure, it definitely was. He tried very hard to convince himself of that fact. It was going to seem so COLD, though. So cold and so lonely...

He entered the bedroom and remembered that he had left his pillow on his bed in the family suite - he could probably make do that night with a folded blanket or something similar, but he wanted that pillow. It would remind him of Garak and perhaps even still have his scent, since that's where they had last been together. He hoped the suite hadn't been re-locked without his code, as he quickly made his way down the corridor - he also hoped he wouldn't run into Sisko, who lived nearby and would no doubt wonder why he was back. He didn't want to talk to anyone at that point, just retrieve the pillow and face the unpleasant challenge of sleeping, alone, without Garak, for the first time in days that felt like weeks. The door luckily opened for him and he walked through the darkened living area, the area where they had spent such intense days, and to the bedroom where they had spent even more intense final hours. 

He heard the sound of breathing as the bedroom door slid open. Garak was lying in the bed, on his side, his arms clasping Bashir's pillow tightly against his face. Bashir smiled with relief and his eyes began to mist, this time with happiness - and love. The Cardassian blinked sleepily and opened his eyes. 

"Any room for me in your bed, Garak? That's my pillow, you know." 

"Our pillow, d- Julian. Oh, and our bed. Always." 

 

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Language note if you're wondering: The Maaritian culture uses a lot of terms that closely resemble Finnish words! :-) Maarit is a Finnish (female) name meaning "pearl," and Aulis is a male name meaning "helpful." Lempi=love or passion, and hyonteinen=insect. Oh, and we can't forget the kulta flower serving as the home of the love bugs - kulta literally means "gold" but the implied meaning is "darling"!


End file.
